The Saurian Gambit
by Feuerstoss
Summary: Currently dead. Please see last chapter, and check out the rewrite entitled Zero Point.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:**

**Firstly, a disclaimer. I do not own the characters of Starfox(ie: Fox McCloud, Krystal, Falco, etc). They are owned by Nintendo. All original characters are of my own creation, with exception of a couple of 'easter eggs.' This is a work of fiction; resemblances to any person or event, living or dead, are strictly coincidencial.**

**This story has been a long time in coming; from the start to the beginning of chapter 9(now 10) took about a year; most of that was writer's block and some of it was life getting in the way. I've posted through Chapter 8 as of now, however Chapters 9 and 10 will be arriving shortly.**

**I'd like to thank everyone for the good reviews and positive criticism I've received thus far; the input has definitely helped me improve my style, and has given me some ideas for later on. In particular I'd like to thank Quiksilver and SF Ghost for a few pointers.**

**I'm not adding any new chapters on this update, however Chapter 9 should be up within afew days. However, I'm restructuring and putting each chapter into its own individual chapter instead of the tangled mess it's in now. Be patient, there's more coming.**

**Feuerstoss.**

Chapter One: The Mission

July 28, 2007

Outside of UBS Branch, 46 Reisestrasse

Zurich, Switzerland

The shark-like profile of the BMW 750iL pulled up to the curb outside the bank. Jakob Helar, the stocky, blonde-haired driver, waited patiently behind the wheel, a glance given to the building. Swiss Banks usually had the look of a fortress, and this one was no exception. Seemingly chiseled from solid granite, they looked like security incarnate.

The three other men in the car exchanged glances. They, like Jakob, were dressed in dark, nondescript bussiness suits. Without a word, the others slowly opened the doors to the sports sedan, climbed out, and shut them nearly in unison. Jakob pressed the trunk release, and a glance in the rearview mirror revealed the three grabbing black duffle bags out of the trunk of the car. Within a moment, the trunk shut, and the three men strolled towards the entrance of the bank. The operation had begun.

Brian Lancing strode in place with the two other men, glancing at the heavily-tinted glass doors leading inside. The heft of the duffel bag added a comforting weight at his side, as they reached the doors. He pulled it open, allowing his two companions to pass into the cool, nearly-sterile interior of the bank.

The lobby was up to date with current European trends, the place being two stories tall, with plenty of light entering through the windows which somehow didn't allow a very good view from outside. Plush, leather sofas and tables awaited patrons, and the light scent of brewing coffee wafted through the air. Being a Saturday, there wasn't many people in the bank, and the two visible armed guards near the door seemed lax, at least as lax as Swiss bank guards got.

The two other men seemed unconserned, as the trio approached the counter. The obsidian slab of a banking counter housed several tellers, most of them busy with clients. The line to a bald, serious-looking teller was the shortest, and the fact the teller sported a nearly permanent scowl seemed to be the reason why.

After a fifteen-minute wait and hearing their fair share of not-so-polite exchanges in German, the trio approached the counter. The tall, lanky redhead to Brian's left leaned over the counter, and his hazel eyes fixed the teller with a hard stare.

"Excuse me, sir." the redhead inquired in a soft British accent. "You do speak English, correct?"

The teller gave the hint of a glare towards the redhead, but nodded. "Yes, sir. What may I help you with?"

The redhead sighed, and shook his head. "I need to access my safe deposit box. Here is the account number." Slowly, he extracted a scrap of paper from his black sports jacket, and passed it to the teller.

The teller glanced at the account number, and turned to the three men. "Have a seat, gentlemen. Someone will arrive shortly to take you to your deposit box." He nooded, and waved in the direction of the couches.

Brian and the others left the line, and made their way over to the couches. Near one corner, three were arranged around a television, playing some sort of news broadcast. The readhead turned to the others, grinning like a madman. "I can't believe it's this easy. Easy in, easy out, right?"

Brian shrugged as he slipped onto one of the couches, the feel of its smooth black leather giving in under his weight. "That's how these banks are, Ron. No questions asked. If you have a general access account like Sazbo's got, you can pretty much walk in and walk out."

Ron Mitchell grinned, and turned to their other companion. He was a little more stoutly built, compared to Ron's beanpole stature and Brian's average build, with light brown hair and eyes which penetrated nearly everything. Sergey Borodin was the oldest member of their group, an ex-Spetsnaz lieutenant who had just seen the wrong side of thirty. When he spoke, his voice was soft yet carried an unmistakable note af authority and command. "I would not get too cocky, Ron. Stealing five million euro from a known arms dealer is still a risky proposition, no matter how you do it."

Ron nodded, but still kept his grin. "I understand, Sergey, but we're talking about a mil and a quarter to each of us. Serves Nikolai Sazbo right for stiffing us on that job we did for him."

Brian nodded, and glanced around the lobby, before fixing his eyes to the television, taking in the talking heads on the news channel it was tuned to. The station was tuned to some sort of BBC variant, so it was in English, at least. Brian's German was rusty at best, and he didn't feel like trying to translate at the moment. As he glanced to the talking heads with the volume turned down below earshot, he answered his two partners in crime. "I agree with Sergey, though. We need to be careful with how we go about this. Sure, the money's right here for the taking, but I'd highly suggest not going out and buying like there's no tomorrow."

Ron nodded, as he glanced to the television, as well. "Right, Brian. Guess that TVR Cerbera'll have to wait until some years..." He broke off, as a scene flickered on the television screen. "What the bloody 'ell's that?" As he pointed, Brian saw the scene a little more clearly.

The viewpoint alternated between a view of open ocean, disturbed by several naval vessels, and what looked to be stock footage of a large cruise liner. Sergey automatically turned up the volume, the voices of the newscasters pushing into existance.

"...disappearance of the Neptune Queen, one of the world's largest cruise liners. The Neptune Queen was lost on radar about fifteen hours ago, after passing the US Navy destroyer Melville. Over fifteen-hundred crew and passengers are missing, and aerial searches have not turned up any sign of debris from the ship. Satellite searches have been in vain as well; there have been no reports of recent wrecks on the ocean floor. We turn now to Dr. Martin Halsey, one of the world's leading researchers on natural geological phenomena..."

The TV was no longer a prime consern to the three, as another man walked up towards them. Squat and portly, the balding, blue-eyed man sported a three-piece brown suit and black tie, as well as a bank name tag. When he spoke, the German accent came out thick, but it was definately understandable. "We have your safe deposit box ready, sirs. If you would, please follow me."

Brian, Ron, and Sergey stood up, making their way along with the bank employee to an elevator. After a brief ride, they were on the third floor of the bank, staring down a long hallway. The royal blue carped blended in with oak paneling and a stark, white ceiling to create what Brian always had dubbed 'the look of the rich'. They were led down the hall, taking a few turns at intersecting corridors before winding up in a small office. A large, metal box was set on a table, and chairs were already present around it.

The banker stood behind them, as they entered the room, and nodded to the three. "Let me know if you require any more services from us." Sergey nodded as the banker left, shutting the door behind him. Ron drew the deadbolt, and grinned.

"Five million, and easy as that, mates!" He set his duffel bag on the table, and opened it, revealing bundles of white paper cut the same size as bills. They had agreed earlier that returning a completely empty box would be suspicious, so they decided to keep it full.

The exchange went smoothly, the stacks of euros packed into their duffel bags, and the stacks of paper swiftly put into their place. None of them spoke a word, as the last of the bills were shoveled into their bags. With rehearsed precision, Brian pulled a two-way radio from his pocket, and switched it on. "Midas to Chariot. Come in, Chariot."

Jakob's voice came in almost immediately. "Chariot here. Main extraction pathway clear. Is the operation complete?"

Brian smiled, and unlocked the door. "Affirmative, Chariot. ETA to your location, three minutes. Number three out." He placed the radio back in his pocket, and opened the door, allowing Sergey and Ron to exit before he did, making their way back to the elevator.

"I can't believe it was that bloody easy, guys." Ron beamed, as they turned back into the main hall. "Just stuff the money somewhere and sit on it a few years, and just don't make too many mistakes in using it. That's all we need to worry about, right guys?"

Sergey shook his head. "We do need to get out of here first, Ron. Remember, focus on the mission, since you never know what may happen." Sergey shrugged, as the radio in Brian's pocket crackled. Brian pulled it out, speaking through it as they walked.

"Number three here. You have my attention, Chariot." Brian blinked, as they came within a few yards of the elevator.

"Chariot to Number Three." Jakob's voice sounded slightly panicked. "Abort main extraction route. Sazbo is here. Repeat, Sazbo is here. I count three cars, Sazbo himself and about ten triggermen. He knows something's up."

"Shit!" Brian spat. "Alright, Chariot. We'll exit out of the west fire door. You let us know if it's clear."

Sergey blinked, and turned away from the elevator. "So, Sazbo caught onto us. I hope I wasn't the only one to bring a gun along." The ex-Spetsnaz lieutenant reached inside his coat and pulled out the CZ-52 pistol which lay beneath it. Firing a 7.62mm round, the CZ52 was a bit outdated, but still fairly powerful.

Ron sighed, and reached under his coat, as well, withdrawing his Walther P99. Chambered in 9mm, the Walther wasn't as powerful as the CZ, but it was well-made, accurate, and very controllable. "How could they have found us? This can't be a routine check on his account, not with all those people."

Brian shrugged as he removed his pistol, as well. His Para-Ordnance P14-45 was a fairly new chip off the old Colt .45 block, but holding fourteen rounds of the classically potent .45 ACP round. "Your hacker friend might have played a part in that. Not much we can do about it, now. We need to get to the car, and get our asses out of here."

Brian motioned them down the hallway, and within moments, they located the emergency stairwell. Brian and Sergey stood off to either side of the door to the stairwell, Brian pushing it open while Sergey had his CZ52 ready. A quick check revealed nobody on the stairs, just yet. "It's clear, but move quickly!" Sergey hissed, as he dashed down the stairs, Brian and Ron in hot pursuit.

They made it to the ground floor as the door to the outside opened, setting off the tell-tale ringing of a fire alarm. The man who entered was dressed in a black overcoat, an AKSU-74 SMG in his hands. Sergey raised his CZ52 as the man levelled the AKSU at them. Sergey wasted no time, the CZ52 roaring as two rounds were blasted into the man, sending him to the ground.

Sergey then tucked his handgun back into his coat, picking up the AKSU and searching the body for magazines as Brian and Ron took up cover positions. Brian grit his teeth, shaking off the concussion from the CZ's blast. "You really do pick your loud handguns, Sergey!"

Sergey cocked a grin at him, as he plucked two magazines for his new SMG out of the dead man's pocket. "How do you Americans put it... I like to make the lasting first impression?"The ex-Spetznaz man grinned, and motioned to Brian's P14. "And, funny how it comes from the man with the American hand cannon, right?"

Brian only shrugged at that, as he crossed over to the exit. At first glance, it looked clear, although anyone could have heard the shots from outside. He wasn't about to take chances. "So, what're we going to do now, fearless leader?" Brian arched a brow, as he kept his Colt trained outside, waiting for anyone to investigate.

Sergey opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the familiar roar of their BMW's V12 engine. The sleek, silver sedan screeched to a halt on the sidewalk beyond them, Jakob motioning frantically for them to hurry up.

Brian jogged past the door, the P14 swinging up to track any hostile movement. As he was halfway to the BMW, Ron slid out, his Walther covering Brian's retreat. Sergey headed up last, the AKSU-74 held at the ready.

Jakob slid out of the BMW, his Glock 17 firmly grasped in his hand as he pointed it towards the corner of the bank. Already, they could hear angry shouts and startled screams. "In the car, now!" Jakob roared, as he shifted into a firing stance.

Brian followed suit, kneeling next to the car with his pistol at the ready. Sergey and Ron knew the drill, as they went for the rear door of the sedan, opening it and piling in. Brian and Jakob would thin their ranks before taking off, hoping the lightly armored car could take a few hits before they got to safety.

Jakob spotted the men darting out from the corner, and started firing, the cracking reports of his Glock soon competing with the flat, dull thunderclaps of Brian's .45.The first men to run at them tumbled and fell on the sidewalk before they could fire.

A rifle barrel thrust itself around the corner, the rattling roar of its fully automatic retort sending whizzing hornets at Jakob and Brian, the light composite plating of the BMW absorbing most of the hits. Brian was behind the front fender, and as he ducked he heard the rounds whizzing dangerously overhead.

The rifleman pulled back, probably to reload. Brian got up, his pistol covering the corner once more, before glancing over to Jakob. His comrade was leaning against the side of the car, staring at the three red blotches on his chest, a look of shock plastered on his features.

Brian vaulted over the car in time to see Jakob fall to the ground. A casual glimpse revealed the fact that he was dead... a victim of pure chance and an unlucky hit on their part. Quickly, he snatched up the Glock he had been carrying, and slid into the driver's seat.

Ron tapped him on the shoulder, as Brian tossed the handgun into the passenger seat. "Are you crazy? We can't leave him behind!"

Brian sighed, as he strapped on the seatbelt, aware of the three men dashing around the corner, dimly feeling the hollow thunks as their handguns tried to put holes through their armored car. "He's dead, Ron. We need to get out of here, and if we don't do it now, we're dead, too!"

Without another word, Brian floored the accelerator, sending the nearly 4,000 pound car directly at the small group of gunmen. As they fired, one of their rounds struck the reinforced windshield, creating a tiny spiderweb of cracks. Brian didn't even have the time to revel in the fact he had hit one of them, as the BMW jumped from the curb onto the street.

The massive sedan quickly picked up speed as Sazbo's remaining men turned around to fire at them, some of them taking a better hint and jumping into their own vehicles. Within mere moments, Brian had already shot the 750iL past a few traffic lights, and a hard right onto a side-street.

Sergey cast a glance behind them, as they weaved in and out of the moderately heavy traffic of downtown Zurich. Already, he could see two vehicles swing onto the street behind them, their passengers armed to the teeth and out to kill. "They couldn't have got onto us this quickly. Someone must have set us up!"

Ron nodded, as they sped past the traffic, Brian leaning on the horn and flashing the lights to ease their passage. He gripped the P99 in a white-knuckle grip, staring out the rear window as well. "If we can just lose them, we've still got a chance. Go for it, mate!"

Brian nodded as he pushed down further on the accelerator, the armored BMW pushing well past the speed limit. He didn't care about the police... actually, he was counting on them showing up. Cops would only complicate Sazbo's men.

Brian swung the car past a few more intersections, slamming a hard right onto one of the main streets. He spotted the signs for one of the major highways out of Zurich... maybe they had a chance to get out of this alive after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Distress Signal.

The rain came down in sheets, and given their height, it was frigid. On top of Kyte, Krystal shielded her eyes from the onslaught, trying to peer ahead through the fog of night, wind, and rain. She had no idea how high up they were; only the sound of Kyte's wings and the wind rushing at them gave any indication they were flying.

"I recieved a garbled distress signal!" Krystal shouted over the din, her right paw firmly clenched around her staff. The staff had been a gift from her parents; a symbol of her coming of age and eventual leader of her tribe on Cerinia. Those old dreams almost forced a tear to her eye; they were dreams shattered long ago.

The vixen forced those memories out of her head. She had to stay focused, for others were in trouble. Her Vucsed transport craft had crashed on this planet, and the last gasp of the communication system revealed the distress signal.

"It was something about a mountain hidden within a storm!" This storm was easily the largest she had seen on this planet. This contrasted Cerinia's climate greatly. Her home planet was far from a tropical paradise, but the climate here was, well... strange to put it lightly. Krystal and Kyte were getting drenched by the storm, and there wasn't much of an end in sight.

"Whoever they are, they sound like they're in great danger!" Krystal squinted into the distance, even though the visibility in the storm was cut down to practically nothing. However, she saw something up ahead... lights. They were coming closer, but she still couldn't determine what they were.

A crimson flash caught their attention, as a glowing red bolt shot through the night sky... directly at them. Kyte squaked in alarm, as Krystal hefted her staff, the shielding matrix embedded within charging up as the bolt struck it.

Krystal's arm flared with pain, as the force from the shot tore the staff from her paw, sending it sailing into the dark abyss beneath them.

"My staff!" she cried, as she shot her glance back to the lights ahead. They were rapidly taking shape; a massive ship forming through the dark and the rain. It looked like an old-time sailing ship, only refitted with wings, engines, and starfighter-class weaponry. The fusion of old and new technology confused her for a split second, as she watched the warship bear down on them.

Kyte squaked again as he dove, the Cloudrunner darting underneath the ship. Krystal blinked as she saw the massive dragon figurehead turn; heard the deep growl eminating from it, carrying through the howl of the wind and the crash of lightning.

The patter of rain stopped for a brief moment, as they skirted underneath the ship, Kyte shouting a garbled "Hold on!" to the vixen. As they cleared the stern of the ship and the massive propeller which was affixed to it, Kyte darted upwards; wings flapping for all their worth as he scaled the warship.

Krystal breathed a sigh of relief as they landed on the deck railing of the ship, sliding off the Cloudrunner's back and landing upon the wood planking with a muffled thump.

"Thanks for helping me. I can take it from here." Krystal smiled at Kyte, as he launched from the deck and into the stormy sky. Now, all she had to do was figure out what was happening on this ship. The vixen glanced over its construction. The ship was fairly straightforward, and the deck empty of any inhabitants, which she found odd. The main deck was strewn with boxes; left untethered in the storm, they slid about... that would make her journey interesting.

Krystal could hear a voice in the distance, although it was far too noisy for her to make it out. Giving another sigh, she pushed forward; her sandal-clad footpaws carrying her down the stairs to the main deck.

The main deck was a serious obstacle to navigate, the young vixen having to pull herself upon several boxes in order to keep from getting pinned. Yet, she made it, as she leaped from one of the sliding wooden containers onto the stairs of the forward deck.

Krystal gasped at the sight she saw. A young Cloudrunner was caged near the main door to the forward parts of the ship. The cage was batted back and forth with the wind, and the Cloudrunner did not look well because of it.

The vixen approached the cage, her paws reaching out to steady its motion as best she could. The occupant weakly looked to her, and spoke in strained, hushed tones.

"Get to Krazoa Palace. They're under... attack. The key's in the hold of the ship. Hurry!" The avian fluttered his wings, and pointed back across the main deck. Krystal nodded, and unlatched the cage, setting the Cloudrunner free. He tumbled out of the cage and scurried off to hide, for the time being.

Krystal glanced across the main hold, and darted down the stairs. A running leap landed her on a box; she carried her momentum from container to container, a set of leaps and jumps carrying her across the deck with ease. Eventually, she landed near where she had started, the open door to the caro hold beckoning her inside.

The first thing the vixen noticed was the overall dryness of the place. It was a welcome change from the pelting of the rain, and it was warm, as well. Her traditional Cerinian garb was just fine for most of her planet's year, but in this stuff, her top, loincloth, and bracers just did not do the trick.

The hold was also well-lit, lanterns attached to the walls shedding their glow upon the multitudes of boxes inside. They were cluttered everywhere; how would she find a key in a maze like this?

Krystal spotted it on the opposite wall; an intricately made gold key, as before, across a slew of boxes. The idea that she would begin to take a dislike to them crossed her mind, but this 'Krazoa Palace' sounded like the source of the distress signal, and so she pushed on.

The boxes impeded her once again, as she pushed and darted her way through them. Slowly, she made her way to the end of the hold, and plucked the key from its resting place. She tucked it into her leg bracer, and pushed her way out of the cargo hold, once again.

The rain had subsided a bit, and the swaying of the warship had stopped somewhat. The boxes were a little easier to pass this time, although a few close calls almost sent her sliding on the slick deck as well. Finally, she approached the door to the front cabin, just in time for it to open.

Krystal jumped back a step, as the tall, bipedal dinosaur stormed out of the cabin, his black eyes glaring at her with a mixture of hatred and annoyance. He stood nearly twice her height, and was built like a statue.

"General Scales, Ruler, Tyrant, and Dictator of Dinosaur Planet!" He boomed, as he approached the young vixen. "What brings you to my world, little girl?"

Krystal stood her ground, her sea-green eyes boring into Scales' obsidian pools. "I am not here to fight you. I am only here because of a distress call."

Scales started chuckling, his deep voice giving a ringing, evil quality to it. "Distress call? This entire planet is in distress!"

Krystal grit her teeth and raised a paw; her finger pointing at Scales. "You're the evil General the Cloudrunner told me about!"

Instantly, Scales went into action, closing the distance between them in a stride and the reach of his massive hand. Its twin was gone, replaced by an evil-looking set of blades attached to his wrist. However, the blades were not used; his hand closing around Krystal's throat. As she squirmed, Scales walked to the railing of the ship. "No one challenges General Scales!"

Krystal's voice was cut off by the iron grasp around her throat, yet her paws scrabbled upon his fingers, trying to pry loose from his grip. It was no use, as she felt herself being drawn back; she barely felt herself being flung over the railing, the feeling of vertigo in her stomach as she plummeted toward the dark, unknown earth beyond.

The sensation stopped abruptly, as she hit something soft and yielding; Kyte giving out a soft squak when she landed on top of him. The vixen clung on for dear life, as Kyte soared away from the vessel. Somehow, she knew where they were headed, now... Krazoa Palace.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Full Throttle.

The BMW's V12 engine roared as Brian floored it, the big German sedan launching itself onto the highway to a serenade of blaring horns of screeching tires as he forced a path into the nearest lane. Already, he could see the two Audis behind them trying to keep up.

Sergey handled his scavenged AKSU with a white-knucke grip, as he stared behind, watching the other cars follow behind. Ron kept his eyes on the road ahead, but his Walther was still in his hand. Brian, however, kept on driving, the BMW's horn blaring as he forged a high-speed path through the traffic. All that mattered was that they get away, as he forced a glance to the speedometer. Over 110 miles per hour, and climbing.

The Audis struggled to keep up through the traffic, yet their patience was rewarded as they grew closer to the edge of the city. Traffic thinned out, and the twin S8s surged forward, their lighter frames and high-output V8s nearly outclassing the more powerful but far heavier BMW.

Brian floored the accelerator, the automatic transmission downshifting with a kick and the large German luxury sedan surged forward. He spared a glance towards the mirror, seeing the two Audis fade a bit farther into the background.

"We can't keep the pace going like this, Brian." Sergey spoke as calmly as if he were discussing the weather. "We will have to lose them."

"Easy enough for you to say." Ron interjected. "We're outnumbered and fairly well outgunned! If we can't get some decent distance, they'll just box us in and gun us down!"

Sergey shook his head. "We have a better chance of losing them if we can get onto some rural sideroads, Ron. Brian, there will be an exit about ten kilometers from here. The farm roads beyond will give us some better choices than a straight highway."

Brian nodded, and kept his eyes on the road. "Alright, guys. But, if these assholes get close, I'm going to have to rely on you to put a few rounds at them. Long as they can't shoot at... "

Brian was cut off by a muffled thunk as something smacked into the rear of the BMW. One of the Audis was closing in, making its assault as its twin hung back. "Shit, guys! Give 'em some return fire!"

Sergey nodded, as he rolled down his window, allowing a torrent of wind to blast through the interior of the speeding car. He thrust the AKSU out of the car and fired a short burst at the Audi, the normally ear-splitting thunder of the AK brought down to a muted rattle by the wind. The tactic seemed to work, as the S8 weaved back and forth, dropping back a few hundred meters. Sergey rolled his window back up, making sure he kept an eye on the opposition.

At their speed, ten kilometers were eaten up relatively quickly. Brian spied the exit, swinging the BMW for it at the last minute, hoping to have the Audis overshoot it. The closest car did, however the farther car managed to keep on their tail as they slowed for the stoplight at the end of the exit.

As if on cue, Sergey and Ron rolled their windows down, their guns ready for action. The combined blasts of 9 and 5.45mm rounds slammed into the front of the Audi, causing it to nearly veer off the road as Brian made a hard right at the end of the intersection, amid blaring horns and German curses. He floored the accelerator again, sending the BMW blasting past a few cars before hitting another stretch of road.

"I think we did it, mates!" Ron grinned, and glanced behind them as they saw the Audi struggle to push past the mass of cars at the intersection. Brian nodded, as he slowed down to take a right turn onto a random road; making a few turns at various intervals to elude Sazbo's men.

"They might still pick up on us, Ron." Brian warned, as they slowed down to just over the speed limit. "Keep a look out." At that, Brian gave a sigh of relief, and started to pay a little more attention to their surroundings. If he hadn't been on this 'mission,' Switzerland would have been a beautiful country to visit. The rolling hills and small copses of trees which passed them almost made their deadly adventure surreal. They had already lost Jakob; he hoped to God all of them made it out of there safely, but he didn't deny he enjoyed the idellic scenery which they had emerged into.

Yet, as if someone had turned a switch, the skies darkened and they were pelted with a torrent of rain. The BMW's automatic wipers and lights switched on, and the three occupants of the car exchanged puzzled glances. "That was... sudden." Brian stated, as they drove on.

Sergey nodded. "It is almost unnatural for rain to start up that suddenly. Yet, anything that will complicate Sazbo's men is a boon for us." At that, they could hear the soft rumbling of thunder. However, it seemed... continuous.

Ron blinked, and glanced through the torrent of rain. "Bloody 'ell, guys. I've never seen it rain like this before. You blokes sure this was on the weather forecast?" The downpour had intensified, causing Brian to slow down to just under the speed limit. The road looked almost fit to flood, and the skies turned nearly pitch black. Lightning flashes slashed the skies around them, adding to the chaos outside.

Brian blinked, as all of this went on. "At least Sazbo's guys are going to have this to deal with, too. Jakob's death definately won't be in vain, and I'll be sure to down a bottle of..."

"Watch out!" Sergey shouted, as a lightning bolt slammed down right in front of them, a strange, green glow eminating from it. Brian swerved to miss it, yet another shot right in front of them as well. "What the Hell is going on?" the Russian continued, as Brian swung the car through an ever-increasing lattice of green bolts.

Brian misjudged the next bolt at the last second, its electric finger slamming into the fender of the car. The BMW was encased with a green glow, escalating to a bright flash of light as Brian hit the brakes, gritting his teeth as he held the wheel straight.

Brian's next sensation was a cool, blue light, before the BMW smashed itself against something, hard. The airbag blew up in his face, momentarily dazing him to the startled shouts of Ron and Sergey. He dimly felt them try to grab him, yet they failed. He felt the deep-seated butterflies in his gut sensation of falling, before everything faded into black with the screech of bending metal and the clatter of shattering glass.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Palace

The ride on Kyte had been rough, yet it was a relief they had made it from the clutches of General Scales. They had neared Krazoa Palace, its looming mass becoming visible through the maelstrom they had been through. A few more seconds of flight passed, and Kyte perched himself upon one of the precipices of the ancient structure.

Krystal slid off his back, and gave him a smile. "Thank you."

Kyte nodded, the Cloudrunner looking a bit nervous even being here. "You're welcome, Krystal. But, be careful. Krazoa Palace is a very sacred place to us dinosaurs."

The vixen nodded, as she glanced to the building in front of her. "I will, Kyte... and thank you again." Kyte gave a nod to her, and lifted off again, disappearing into the night air. Afterwards, Krystal took a look around.

She was on a large balcony-like structure. A set of steps led down to the right; blocked by a row of boxes. She could barely see a continuation of that balcony down below. As far as the level she was on, she could see a door on the far wall of the balcony, covered by a lock.

She wasn't alone on the balcony, either. Two swirling, etheral masses seemed to drift about, some sort of guardians of the palace, maybe? Krystal definately didn't want to find out. She pulled the slender key from her bracer, and crept her way forward; the door her goal for the time being.

The guardians sprung into action, their jellyfish-like bodies drifting towards her. Krystal tucked and rolled out of the way, and shot for the door. She reached there easily enough. Krystal then placed the key into the lock, and was pleasantly surprised when it turned open with a click.

The room she went into was tiny; the only object within a squat, silver barrel. The vixen picked it up, almost staggering under its weight. The guardians noticed this and started approaching her, spinning their tentacles around in an attempt to trap her within.

Krystal threw the barrel at them, hoping it would block their assault enough for her to get away. Instead, when the barrel hit the nearest one it exploded; the blinding flash of light and the fireball which erupted picked the vixen up and carried her to the ground with a resounding smack, which knocked the wind out of her.

Wincing, she pulled herself to her feet. The guardians were... gone, destroyed in the explosion. She gave a grim smile at that, and walked to the boxes. They were easily hurdled, and she made her way towards the main entrance of the palace.

The large stone doors were shut, however one of them had a massive hole punched through it. Curious, Krystal approached the hole, noticing black markings around it. That was odd... it looked like carbon scoring from some sort of energy beam. "Who could have done this?" she mused, as she squeezed through the hole.

The entrance hallway was empty, and silent. Even the rain and wind were muted, and she proceeded to shake out her fur... she was soaking wet, and growing cold. "At least this place is warm, at least a little bit." She grit her teeth, and made her way through the hall.

The hall was creepy; the archetecture being of dark, grey stone archways with precious few torches to light the way. A skylight above provided a little ambient light, but kept the fury of the storm outside from making its presence known. Krystal shivered a bit, as she made her way through the hall, keeping a close eye for any guardians. She knew she didn't want them to get their tentacles on her.

The stone doors at the end of the hall were ajar, and bright, clean light shone from the room within. Krystal crept up to the door, and pushed her way inside. The chamber she found herself in was large and splendidly adorned. Black marble tile covered the floor, reflecting the light in its own oynx glow. Tapestries and banners were hung upon the walls; and a skylight cast the storm's chaos onto a giant statue.

However, Krystal's attention was drawn to the only occupant of the chanber; a lone Earthwalker curled up on the floor. She could see many wounds upon his body, and he appeared to be in great pain. Swiftly, she crossed the distance to him, settling on her knees and placing a paw upon his snout.

"What happened here?" she asked, concern apparent in her voice.

"My... girl, it isn't safe... for you to be here. The... the Sharpclaw..." The dinosaur rasped out, tilting his head a bit to look at her more closely.

"Were you the one who sent out the distress signal?" Krystal closed her eyes and sighed... something was wrong, deadly wrong. And, she knew she was the only one with the power to do something about it.

The Earthwalker nodded slightly, and continued, his voice gaining a little strength as he went on. "Yes... I did. the Sharpclaw attacked... General Scales, he... stole one of the Krazoa Spirits. They, along with the four Spellstones, are key to making our planet... whole again. We... hid the other five Krazoa Spirits... throughout the palace."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Krystal glanced up, and looked around the chamber. she made out two exits; one on a ledge to her right which was impossible to climb upon, and a set of doors to her left. As if it were on cue, the door slowly slid open.

"Enter the... Krazoa Shrine, girl." the Earthwalker coughed, and nodded toward the open door. "Only the pure of heart... may take the tests. If the Krazoa... find you worthy, then... you will meet your... reward. Come... back to me when you... finish." He coughed again, as he looked to the vixen.

Krystal stood up, and nodded at him before making her way to the door. The chamber it opened into was ornate, gilt with gold and jade. The damage the Sharpclaw had done was apparent; gashes in the walls and scrapes on the tiles marred the beauty of the room. However, the raised dias in the center of the room was unmarked, and it shone with a pure, golden light. Somehow, she knew she had to step on it... so she did.

The golden light filled her vision, the room around her fading into its glow. Krystal blinked, and found herself in an entirely different chamber. The tile and trim was unmarred, and looked as if nobody had been inside it for quite a while. Slowly, the vixen pushed past the chamber, and into the first room.

The room was a simple box, and plainly adorned. A ladder was set at one corner, and extended upwards... Krystal guessed maybe forty feet or so, and ended at an upper level. She crossed over to it, and climbed up.

The upper level was where the test began. The 'entryway' was well-protected; a solid wall of flame blocking any access. She sat there a moment, puzzled. However, the flames disappeared abruptly, and the vixen approached the opening.

The flames came back with a solid woosh as she closed within a foot of the opening. The heatwave from it pushed her back, wincing and cringing... she was surprised her fur hadn't smoldered. After another moment, the flames subsided, and she was free to go.

Krystal grit her teeth, as the first challenge had passed. However, she knew there were more to come, and the second one would be far more difficult. A pit stretched out in front of her... about eight feet deep and fifty across. Entry and exit were easy; ladders were placed at either end of the pit. Yet, another Guardian lurked inside it, its tentacled, jellyfish-like form patrolling the narrow 'hallway' dilligently.

She knew she could roll into the pit easily enough, but she was weaponless. She knew the fire blaster in her staff could take care of it with ease, but she didn't have that on her. Krystal would have to evade it as best she could.

The vixen took a deep breath, and ran towards the edge of the pit, tucking into a roll as she cleared the ledge. The Guardian chittered and began to float towards her, as she ran forward. The ladder was in sight, she just had to reach it.

Krystal ran full-force towards the end, grabbing the ladder as the Guardian made its chase. She started to climb it, the chittering sound from the Guardian growing louder. It was right on top of her.

She reached the top as she felt something dig into her thigh... the pain of several needles slashing through her leg as one of the Guardian's tentacles whipped around her. Krystal pulled away, the Guardian releasing its grasp as she gave some resistance. However, that was only the beginning.

Just as she felt the blood flow down her leg, the pain started. An agonizing bolt of it shot up and down her leg, freezing her in place. Scrabbling, she managed to pull herself up on the ledge, and out of reach of her assailant. Yet, the pain continued, and an icy numbness also set in. Her mind raced, knowing she had been poisoned by the Guardian.

Krystal winced, as she forced herself to her feet. She stumbled forward, around a bend in the corridor. This time, there were more flame jets to deal with, shooting across the floor at random intervals. However, she could see past the hall... there was some sort of large chamber behind them... she was almost there.

Limping, she timed the flame jets, and managed to push past them fairly easily. She still hurt, but she needed to get past... if she didn't, she may die here, and the hope of the planet may die with her. Finally, she found herself in the main chamber of the test...

The chamber was quite large... easily the size of a Kokli field on Cerinia. A moat of water surrounded it, except for the entrance... at the opposite end, a corridor made of pillars led to another pool of water, somehow facing out from the far wall. It was strange to her, but she knew what she had to do.

As she made her way in, an apparition appeared before her. It was composed of some sort of head; an elongated face with 'hair' made out of tentacles. Krystal crouched defensively... however a voice flowed into her mind.

"Have no worry, Krystal. I am a Krazoa Spirit. You have proven yourself worthy of transporting me to the Force Jewel, where with the others, we can help rebuild Sauria."

"However, you cannot physically carry me. I must prepare you for the Possession Ritual. There will be no pain, and the toxin of the Wraith will be pushed out of you once we meld. You must take me to the shrine in the palace in order to release me."

Krystal nodded, and stood still. Without warning, the Krazoa backed up a little, then rammed into her full-force. She was forced to her knees, a strane, tingling sensation flooding her body. The pain and numbness in her leg instantly faded, as a bright flash flashed before her eyes.

She blinked once again... she was back in the original chamber. All was silent, as she crept from the chamber and back into the main room. The Earthwalker was still there, nodding to himself. "I see you carry the Krazoa within you, my girl." He shook his head toward the other end of the room, where one of the walls appeared to fade into nothingness, revealing a corridor beyond it. "Through there, you will find the shrine for the Krazoa. You must release the Krazoa into the shrine, and let it be placed into the Force Jewel."

Krystal nodded, and slowly turned toward the new corridor. She was ready to help the denizens of Dinosaur Planet any way she could, staff or no staff. Onward the vixen continued, unaware of what lay beyond.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Stranded.

Brian slowly gained conciousness, and regretted every moment of it. Every facet of his body screamed with pain, and he felt a monster of a headache and headrush coming on, which felt strange to him. His vison wavered, the only thing his eyes could process were a neverending parade of light and dark blurs. Where was he?

Instantly, the 'mission' came to mind. They were escaping Sazbo. Had they found them, somehow, during the storm? They couldn't have. He would have been killed if Sazbo's men found him. He was alive, but what happened?

His ears started to function right, the dull ringing he was unaware he was hearing fading into a dull chime; the door chime of the BMW. It was an annoying sound, pulsing into his ears, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He was still in the car, at least. He also realized he was upside-down, the seat belt holding him firmly in place. That was where the headrush came from, and probably the headache as well.

After a few moments, his vision returned. The interior of the BMW beckoned to him, its plush leather and warm walnut trim suffering little from whatever accident he had been in. The airbag had deployed, and all the glass he could see had been busted, showering everything inside with shards of safety glass. Their personal effects had been tossed all over the car, and Brian could see no sign of Sergey or Ron, except for the back door being open.

The scene outside of the car was surreal. Brian was expecting Swiss farmland, and got an expanse of bluish-gray stone. He was in an immense chamber of some sort, but how? How could he have gone from a rural road north of Zurich... to this? The situation served to confuse him, but if he was to find a way out of this, he needed to get moving.

With a grunt, Brian undid the seat belt, and fell to the 'ceiling' of the BMW. His head pounded with the effort, and his brain threatened to black out again. However, he forced himself to concentrate, and slowly shook all the cobwebs from his head. His face felt tight and crusty; when he wiped his cheek, flakes of dried blood fell from it, staining his hand and the interior of the car.

Brian crawled out from the car and used its frame to help himself to a standing position. Afterwards, he took a better look at the chamber before him. Its bluish stone expanse was easily fifty yards in diameter, a stone circular 'tower' of sorts which was at least two hundred feet to the top of the open ceiling. It was raining outside, yet none of it seemed to be pooling down at the bottom, strangely enough. A massive, translucent lavender crystal was the centerpiece of the chamber. Brian noticed it was supported on a large, ornate chamber, but he couldn't figure out if it were functional or merely decoration.

As an afterthought, Brian reached under his rumpled suit jacket, feeling for his P14. It wasn't there. Stifling a wince, he checked the other side of his shoulder holster, feeling for the pistol's three spare magazines which were also not present. He had been searched and his handgun taken, probably by Sergey or Ron, in search of all the extra firepower they could have.

Brian glanced toward the trunk. It was open as well , and their spare HK G36 rifle and ammo were gone. This didn't bode well for Brian, who was caught almost defenseless. "Damnit!" he growled, as he looked inside the trunk. All which remained inside was a collapsable riot baton, something Jakob always carried as a backup. Brian and the others always made fun of it, but at the moment that was all he had. Sighing, he clipped the baton to his belt.

Brian wished Jakob was still around. His cool, calm demeanor even under fire always managed to keep Brian's head level under stress, as well. Yet his friend was now dead, and he was left alone and in the strangest of places. Brian had to keep his wits about him. Taking a deep breath, he peered inside the car once again, and a dull glint of metal caught his eye underneath the passenger seat.

Brian reached underneath the seat, and blinked as his hand closed over something blocky. He brought the recovered object into the light, and found himself holding Jakob's Glock 17. He grinned at this, ejecting the magazine of the pistol. Twelve rounds were left in the pistol, and one in the chamber meant he had thirteen at his disposal.

Brian blinked, and reached for the glove compartment, curling his fingers around the handle and opening it. A loud clatter ensued, as its contents emptied out onto the ceiling of the car... extra magazines for the Glock. Brian counted seven of them stashed away, and soon he added them to the magazine holders in his holster as well as his pockets. A quick count revealed he had a little over 130 shots. That should see him through just about anything.

Now armed, Brian stepped away from the wrecked BMW, and took another close look at the tower he was in. It seemed to have three levels built into it, balconies overlooking the large pit he was in. Several strange platforms were spaced throughout the pit, the closest of which was just several yards away. Brian slowly approached it, and placed a hand upon it.

His hand was forced upwards in a rush of air which nearly knocked him flat on his butt. With a yelp, he jumped back, surveying the platform once again. "Damned if I do, and damned if I don't." He sighed, and took a running jump onto the platform. Brian was propelled into the air, and was drifted into the next platform. He hung there for a moment, before he was pushed upwards... just hanging on for the ride.

Eventually, Brian was ejected into the top balcony, catching his breath before standing up. He glanced around, noticing several doors and walkways set into the stone walls around him. The nearest walkway beckoned to him, a large affair with stone pillars set into the sides. That in itself was a starnge architectural feature, but enabled him to keep to the shadows, just in case he was spotted by someone... or something. The place seemed inhuman; the design of this structure forboding to his very soul.

Brian was shaken out of his thoughts, as he heard soft footsteps resound down the hallway. Immediately, he pulled out his Glock and ducked behind a pillar, preparing himself for anything else which might come his way. However, nothing prepared him for what was about to happen...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: An Unlikely Savior.

Krystal made her way down the short hallway, the echoes of her footsteps carrying beyond her to the larger hallway beyond. The Cerinian paused at its edge, peering down the new corridor. The building had changed, blue-gray stone greeting her sight. The hallway ended in a large room beyond, but the other end terminated in a small shrine of sorts.

That would be it, the Krazoa shrine the Earthwalker was talking about. Krystal approached it, glancing at the omnious-looking bas-relief of a Krazoa face carved into the wall. Suddenly, she felt a tingling sensation throughout her body.

Krystal found herself moving involuntarily, facing the shrine before falling to her knees. The tingling increased as she threw her arms out, arching her back in order to face the carving. She heard herself moan softly as the tingling built up to a soft ache, then to a sharp pain as the Krazoa spirit burst from her body.

The spirit chittered as it floated toward the carving, melding to it in a soft bue glow. Krystal, however, slumped forward, her body exhausted after the quick ordeal. After taking a few calming breaths, the vixen stood up, looking around her. The Krazoa face had begun to glow and shake; a purple beam shooting out from it to fly into the room beyond.

A yelp behind her startled the Cerinian, who noticed the onset of rushing footsteps a little too late. Something was coming at her, and quickly. She could barely see her assailant, due to the fact it was some sort of shimmering hulk. Krystal ducked as she yelped, a rush of wind ruffling her fur as a monster-sized hand passed through the area where she once was.

The Cerinian knew she needed to act before she got hit a second time. She balled her paw into a fist and slammed it into the invisible creature. A sharp pain shot through her paw as it met an unyelding force. Kystal yelped for the second time, narrowly dodging another swat from her assailant.

The vixen grit her teeth, trying to think of a way past her attacker. However, a shout from down the hallway echoed into her ears. "Get down!" The creature paused, giving enough time for Krystal to drop to the floor.

A sharp, loud crack thundered from behind them, quickly followed by another, and then another. Krystal winced as her ears spiked with pain from the sonic assault. However, the creature did not swat at her again, a low, angry growl eminating from it. The Cerinian felt it turn away and march down the hall.

Krystal looked up to see the source of the noise. Another creature stood there, now partially obscured by the invisible beast's advance. It wasn't all that large; barely larger than herself, and clothed in a black dress suit of some sort. Clothing like that was rare on Cerinia, but not totally unheard of. Come to think of it, the creature looked like an ape of some sort, yet without the fur to show for it.

Finally, the creature was armed with some sort of hand blaster. Most of those were energy weapons, and wouldn't have been as loud as the one it was armed with. Plus, she could now smell some sort of sharp smoke in the air... did his weapon work on some sort of chemical system rather than energy?

The creature that had saved her wasn't in much position to answer. He was busy levelling his weapon at their attacker. Another series of cracks left the weapon, and finally the invisible assailant's footsteps broke. It rushed past the blaster-wielding ape, and into the room beyond.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Madhouse...

Brian saw the partially-invisible thing run past him, as he steeled himself for another attack by it. It looked like it was still standing, but seven 9x19mm rounds had made it lose its nerve. Brian was relieved; most unarmored people wouldn't have just shrugged off getting shot like that. Then again, most people weren't a shimmering mirage, and didn't look like they were eight feet tall and built like a brick Buick.

Brian only had one word for that. Crazy. The figure he had rescued from the inviso-beast wasn't any less shocking, as she stood up. He could tell it was a she at least. Still, coming face to face with something straight out of a fantasy book wasn't his idea of normal.

She was somewhat tall for a human female, probably five foot nine or so. She had the form of a practiced gymnast, but that is where the similarity ended. Firstly, she was a fox. A bipedal fox, dressed in a loincloth, some sort of bikini top, sandals, and bracers. A tiara-looking piece of jewelry also encircled her forehead; giving her the look of some sort of tribal princess. Come to think of it, the markings around her upper arms and thighs had the air of tribal tattoos about them.

Brian noticed her take a step back, shifting into a defensive crouch. Immediately afterwards, he saw exactly why; his Glock was trained on her torso. "Damnit. Sorry." Brian blurted out, as he slid his finger off the trigger, lowering the handgun. "I'm not here to hurt you," he continued, "Hell, you probably don't speak my language, anyway."

The foxette blinked as she regained her previous posture, taking a hesitant step towards him. She then spoke to him. "Actually, I understand you just fine... I speak Lylat fairly well." Brian's jaw dropped, elicting an arched eyebrow from the vixen. She spoke English... crisp, British-accented English at that. No, she couldn't have, it was impossible. "Who... who are you?" She spoke again, an inquisitive tone carried over her accent.

Brian remained still for a moment and arched an eyebrow in return. The silence passed awkwardly as he made full eye contact with the foxgirl for the first time; hazel eyes boring into his, seemingly peering into his soul and probing for his darkest secrets. This caused him to blink a bit, before responding. "Brian Lancing. And... don't ask me what I'm doing here, because I haven't a damn clue myself."

The vixen nodded as she took a step closer. Brian was getting a little more nervous; having a fuzzy alien he had just met almost invading his personal space wasn't a nice thought, even if you took away the fact he had just been in combat. She did, however, stop before she spoke again. "I won't pry, Brian. Still, thank you for helping me. I wouldn't have been able to fend that creature off with my bare paws."

Brian found himself nodding, before he slid the Glock back into its holster. He had a lot of questions on his mind, but he was fairly sure the foxgirl wouldn't be able to tell him how he ended up in this place... wherever it was. So, he decided to focus on the small questions first. "Now, back at you... who're you?"

The vixen glanced up at him, the faint ghost of what he assumed (and that was from Saturday morning cartoons, so he could very well be wrong) was a smile touching her lips. "I am Krystal Haleth," she announced softly, "daughter of Haran and Yitana Haleth, members of the Great Council of Cerinia."

Brian blinked... he guessed he didn't introduce himself properly in this culture, so he might as well get on with it. "Um... I'm the son of John and Susan Lancing back in Montana. My old man was a county sheriff, and my mom was a nurse. Er... that enough?"

Krystal nodded, the smile growing a little bit. "I've been around the Lylat System," she inquired, "but I have never heard of this.. Montana before?" She gained a puzzled look on her features, and her tail swished lightly.

Brian sighed, and shook his head. "I don't know what this Lylat system is. Montana is a state in the nation where I'm a citizen on the planet Earth. That's all I really can explain to you." He shrugged as he glanced around... the purplish beam which exuded from the mask-statue on the wall had subsided, and the giant gem he saw earlier was being risen towards the top .

Krystal nodded, and sighed. "I've never heard of a planet called... Earth. I just hope that if you're lost, we can find a way to get you back home." She took a few steps closer, which caused Brian to take a step back towards the wall near one of the pillars.

"Considering you have no idea where I'm from, and the fact I've no damn clue where I am, that's a tall order." Brian took a deep breath, before letting it out slowly. He couldn't let the stress get to him. This was way beyond a standard operation for him, but hesitation and dwelling on a situation he couldn't change would end up getting him killed.

The vixen regarded him curiously, before leaning against the opposing pillar. "I know this might not comfort you, but I'm in very much the same position that you're in, Brian." She stretched a bit, taking a look down both stretches of the corridor before continuing. "My starship is stranded here, and I'm also tasked to save this planet from destruction."

Brian blinked, and started chuckling a bit. "Destruction? Krystal, it'd take a pretty damn powerful weapon to destroy an entire planet. I'm not talking about this Death Star BS, either." He got a strange look from Krystal, and shook his head. "That thing's a fictional weapon that could blow up a planet where I come from. Anyway... where I come from, it would take a full-out, global scale war to destroy a planet. If that's happening here, I don't think someone unarmed like yourself is going to stop it."

Krystal sighed, shaking her head at him. "No, Brian. There isn't a full-scale war. This is a mostly peaceful planet, but one of the dinosaur tribes..."

Brian cut her off. "Dinosaurs? You've gotta be kidding me. They've been dead for ages! I mean..."

Krystal returned the favor, her voice carrying a bite which caused Brian to back off. "If you'll let me finish...one of the tribes, the Sharpclaw, started taking over the entire planet. The place we're in, Krazoa Palace, was designed to house the Krazoa spirits which help maintain Dinosaur Planet." Krystal sighed, and held up a paw towards Brian, keeping him quiet as she regained her thoughts.

"The leader of the Sharpclaw, General Scales, apparently managed to storm the palace and steal one of the spirits. The Earthwalker tribe, which were charged with guarding this place, hid the other five Krazoa throughout the palace. What I need to do is collect all of them and then the planet will be mostly whole, again."

Brian straighened up, a perplexed look on his face. "Hold on. What do you mean by mostly whole? Is there something else you need to do in order to get his mess straightened out?"

Krystal nodded, and stood back up. "Yes. The planet is missing four pieces, which are orbiting it as we speak. They are held in place by four Spellstones. They must be replaced, or the magical energies holding Dinosaur Planet together will finally deteriorate enough to cause it to break apart entirely."

Brian sighed, and stood up as well. "So, I take it you're not going to find these things just laying out in the open. That brings me to another point. As far as I can see, you're unarmed. Right?" Brian waved at the vixen, who nodded in response. "Exactly. I'm not fit to take on an army, either."

Krystal blinked, and motioned to his jacket. "You have a blaster, right? It's not very powerful, but it's better than bare paws. I don't have my staff on me, so I'm down to just those." The blue-furred Cerinian shrugged, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

Brian shrugged in return, and reached to his belt. She did need a weapon, and he wasn't about to lose the edge he had with the Glock. He pulled out Jakob's old riot baton, giving a flick of the wrist to bring the telescoping steel rod to its full extention. Afterwards, he extended his arm, offering the baton to Krystal. "Here. It's not much, but you've got a better idea how to use it than me."

Krystal nodded, as she plucked the baton out of his hand. The weapon was a decent bit heavier than her staff, and only about one-half the length. She wasn't used to something that short, and it lacked even the most basic of her staff's capabilities, but it would have to do. "You... you're wanting to team up, are you?" Krystal inquired, a puzzled expression contorting her eyebrows and muzzle.

Brian sighed. "As much as I'd like to stick around here," he mused, "I don't think staying here and waiting for another invisobastard to pick me off is an attractive option." He shook his head, and pointed toward the corridor she came from. "That place leads to an exit, right?"

Krystal nodded, pushing herself off of the pillar. "Yes. However, Krazoa Palace is simply a floating rock in the middle of a storm. We'd have to find a way off." She glanced towards the hallway she entered from, and back to Brian. "Kyte, one of the local resistance leaders, might still be around. If he is, we can get back to my ship and figure out what to do from there."

Brian nodded, and took a few steps forward, toward the hallway. "I guess our best bet is to try. It's doubtful that we're going to find out much info on how to get this planet together, and to get my butt back home if we're stuck up here." After a moment, Brian and Krystal made their way into the hallway, and started the task of saving Dinosaur Planet.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: A Looming Threat.

Nikolai Sazbo was not just angry; the Serbian gunrunner was downright pissed. They had chased the loathsome thieves out of Zurich, but with five million euro in their possession, he was angry. After a freak accident, here they were. Sazbo and four of his top lieutenants were stuck on some sort of flying sea galleon, surrounded by strange lizards who barely tolerated their presence.

Sazbo smirked at that, as he looked around the wheelhouse where they had set up 'shop.' They were well-armed, even still. Each of his top men(and one woman) were armed to the teeth. The only thing stopping them from simply killing every living thing on the vessel was the fact the blue fox who seemed to be running the show had told them he was their only way back home.

Nikola Petrovic, the man to his left, looked around. Like Sazbo and the others, he was dressed in an expensive Italian silk suit, which was supposed to let them blend into the high-class Zurich neighborhood where the bank had been. The only differences were the AKS-74 rifles balanced on their laps, and the belts full of magazines for the deadly 5.45mm assault rifles around their waists.

"It is such a shame." Nikola muttered, waving around the flying ship. "Such a primitive place. And they say they need us as their... handymen?" He spat to one side, expressing his disdain for the situation they were in. "Are we not brethren in battle, fighting for our rightful lands? We are, yet we have foreign filth stealing from us, and aliens keeping us as pawns in their games!"

Karina Haravan held out a hand towards Nikola, motioning for him to stop. He did immediately with a nod towards her. Not only was Karina a model femme fatale, standing at nearly six feet and possessing the body of an athlete; she was also Sazbo's second in command. "Nikola." The word was command enough.

The other two men didn't say a word, yet they continued to stay vigilant. Milorad Kojic and Draza Cavoski never said much, yet they were fiercely loyal, and some of the best tactical minds Sazbo knew. As a team, the five of them were almost unstoppable. Even in their strange situation, Sazbo could count on his men to follow him to Hell if he needed it... and it seemed as if they weren't too far from it.

Sazbo shook his head, standing up and taking a short stroll to the railing of the galleon. The night air was warm, but not that humid. It was similar to a decent midsummer's night, with only alien constellations to ruin the experience. He shifted his AK74, the rifle giving a reassuring weight to his grip.

They had wrecked the Audi several hours ago after following Borodin and his charges into that freak storm. They had ended up on a beach, and quickly gathered what they could until they were set upon by some of those lizards. Their melee tactics had proven no match for the battle-hardened Serbs and the vast firepower their rifles gave them. However, two others appeared and called a truce. One of them seemed to be the leader of the band of lizards, and the other a blue-furred fox, as if it had stepped from a comic book.

Sazbo and his soldiers thought it strange, but they were allowed to keep their weapons, and were soon ushered onto the ship. One of the lizards spoke English, albeit rather badly; while his entire team knew English fairly well, they feigned ignorance of it, leaving Sazbo to the talking. They were told to wait, which kept them occupied with their thoughts. Sazbo thought it was a rudimentary scare tactic, one which wasn't working on his highly-disciplined soldiers.

The thump of heavy footsteps resounded behind Sazbo, causing him to turn around. The AK74 was a reassuring weight in his hands, as he saw the English-speaking lizard walk up the stairs towards the wheelhouse. His team almost sprung into action; keeping the same lax expression, yet he saw hands tightening around their rifles. If the lizard made a wrong move, he would be covered.

The lizard didn't look any different to Sazbo. It stood roughly chest-high, and was extremely stocky. It would be a challenging opponent if he had to resort to getting in close. Yet, it had rudimentary armor, and it was armed with only a spiked club. It spoke in rather bad English, but it got the point across. "You. You isss Sssazzbo?"

"Da." Sazbo replied curtly. He caught the lizard sizing him up, as he just did. Sazbo stood at a shade over six feet tall; the stocky build of a hardened soldier showed through even the plush, decadent suit. He had kept his head completely shaved, adding to the effect. Sazbo's ice-blue eyes were locked on the lizard's obsidian gaze, offering a mute challenge.

The lizard didn't react, much to its credit. "You isss... wanted now. Follow me. Jussst you."

Draza and Milorad started to stand up, but a wave from Sazbo caused them to sit back down. "Stay put. If you hear my weapon fire, then you know what to do."

The lizard blinked, and looked over to the team. "What you sssay?" he asked Sazbo.

Sazbo shook his head. "I told them to stay where they are." It wasn't a complete lie, but he was safe in the fact they were probably the only people on the planet, besides Borodin, who spoke Serbian.

The lizard nodded, and strode across the deck, Sazbo in tow. He had noticed the multitude of crates haphazardly stacked on the ship. They were supplies of some sort, obviously. That brought him to the sudden realization none of them had eaten all day. It was a minor discomfort, although securing supplies would be crucial in the future.

They arrived at the front of the ship, in front of a large wooden door. Torchlight illuminated the area, rather than the lanterns which the wheelhouse used. The lizard walked up to the door, and pointed to it. "You go in now. Boss isss waiting for you."

Sazbo sighed, and grasped the rough iron handle with his left hand, somewhat surprised at its heft. The door was heavy and thick, taking a bit of force to open. Yet, he stepped in, making sure the AK74 was on hand if he needed to use it.

The room was fairly well-furnished. A large table graced its center, square in design and strewn with the remains of some sort of meal, as well as various documents and maps. The walls were decorated with metal shields, each displaying a unique symbol which was illegible to him.

There were two others in the room, Sazbo immediately taking notice of the lizard chief sitting at the head of the table. He was easily eight feet tall, his dark gaze radiating of barely-repressed hate and manevolence. He also was missing his left hand; replaced by a pair of rather nasty blades. Sazbo himself felt a slight bit of nervousness, but he would make sure he would put up a fight if need be.

The blue fox was present as well. Dressed in a loosely-fitting shirt and trousers, he seemed relatively normal, if you did not count the fact he was a blue-furred fox. He had several intricate piercings through his ears, and a golden circlet was settled upon his head; capped with a scarlet jewel of some sort. He noticed Sazbo, and offered a nod towards him. "Please, take a seat." The fox's voice was articulate and polite, in comparison to the rough demeanor of the lizard chief.

Sazbo surprised himself by sliding into the wooden chair at the end of the table. He propped the AK74 against the table, glancing to his two 'hosts'. Neither seemed to make a reaction to the presence of his rifle, but Sazbo made sure he had as much of a bargaining chip as he could. He would get down to business right there and then. "Now that we've had a chance to meet, I'd like to know why, exactly, are we here?"

The fox started to speak, but was silenced by a wave from the chief. His tone was harsh, but Sazbo wasn't entirely impressed. "You're not going to be changing anything about it, so you had better do as you're told. If not, expect to stay here for good."

Sazbo glared at the large reptile, a silent standoff ensuing for a moment, until he spoke. When he did, his voice was that of the cold, calculated soldier who had participated in the killing of thousands. "You do not order us around, that point I will make clear to you. If you threaten us again, I will make sure that nobody leaves this airship alive... and I will kill you personally."

The fox didn't seem to be fazed by Sazbo's threat, although this served to enrage the reptile. "Are you challenging me, weakling? I, General Scales, will wipe you from existance personally!" Scales stood up to his nearly eight foot height and delivered a swat to the table, causing it to jerk violently and send Sazbo's AK74 skittering to the deck with a clatter.

Sazbo didn't miss a beat. He kicked the chair back from the table while his hand shot underneath his suit coat, producing the Springfield XD pistol he carried. Instantly, he snapped it into a firing position, its sights levelled on Scales. Still, the massive Sharpclaw advanced towards the Serbian gunrunner, as his finger tightened on the trigger.

A voice seemingly roared out of nowhere. "Stop this insolence at once, both of you!" The fox had stood up, a thin, obsidian rod extending in his paw as if it had materialized there. The rod was capped by a ruby, which was surrounded by what looked like a spearhead. For a melee weapon, it apeared very deadly. However, Scales stopped and glanced toward the fox.

"If we do not teach these ones a lesson, Meran, we will not be able to control them! Stay out of this!" Scales gestured towards Sazbo, who had relaxed his trigger finger just a bit.

The fox shook his head, and pointed the staff towards Scales. "That is not the way to meet our ends, Scales. Let me deal with this little problem personally, and without damaging relations." Meran sighed, and motioned Scales to the door, which he reluctantly did. Sazbo continued to track the General with his pistol until he left.

Sazbo glanced to the fox, before sliding the XD back into its holster. Afterwards, he sighed and motioned toward the door. "Your comrade just might be on the recieving end of a bullet if he does not curb his anger."

Meran shrugged, before sliding his staff behind his back. Mysteriously, it seemed to collapse to fit inside a pocket sewn into his shirt, but that wasn't Sazbo's concern at the moment. "General Scales is very crude, yes... but he does have his uses. Scales has enabled me to strike against my enemies, and do so quite well."

Sazbo arched an eyebrow toward the blue fox, and shook his head. "I don't understand, then. Why should we consider working for you, and why would you need us in the first place?"

Meran grinned towards Sazbo, one which somehow shook the Serbian to his core. He knew right then he had stepped into the point of no return. Scales was dangerous, yes... but this Meran was far more cunning than Scales ever hoped to be. "I know what you want, Nikolai Sazbo. You had currency stolen from you by three men, who once worked for you. You want that currency back... and you want those three men dead for their theft."

Sazbo's eyes widened. He had never discussed this with anyone outside his team. "How... how did you know? Do you... have one of them here?" This fox was becoming a little more unnerving to him, but he decided to stay put and hear him out.

Meran shook his head. "I don't, no. But, to me, your thoughts are fairly clear. You had worked out a plan to take over the ship had Scales attacked you, and you would have been successful at it. There are reasons I need Scales, but there is now a bit of a complication I need taken care of, before he takes advantage of it."

Sazbo sighed. "I still don't know what we are involved in. You're acting like some kind of mindreader. If you are in actuality that powerful, why not take care of this, this 'complication' yourself? Why would you need our help in doing it?"

Meran took a deep breath, before looking to the door. Slowly, he took a few steps toward Sazbo, and began speaking in a hushed tone. "Long ago, I was a powerful... 'politician' in your words, on my home planet. Many of us had mental abilities far beyond the capabilities of anyone else. I disclosed a powerful secret to the Council... the secret of dimensional teleportation. I thought it would help our race achieve a higher standard of living... learning from other cultures, gaining experiences beyond compare." The vulpine grinned almost insanely, as he continued.

"The Council thought I was a fool, and then after completing my first experiment, I managed to bring one of your kind to Cerinia. I had even managed to get him to come out of his own free will! Yet, the damned Haleths believed it to be too dangerous, and they managed to exile me. It has taken me years, but I have finally had my revenge... except for one complication."

Sazbo blinked, and took a step back from Meran. "Are you telling me that you managed to... teleport my team and I to this world, just to help you remove a 'complication' from it? This is absurd. However, let me guess... if we don't do this job for you, then we will never see our homeland, correct?"

Meran nodded. "Yet, as compensation, I will do my best to provide to you the men who had stolen from you. I will allow you to kill them, as long as you do this little job for me. There is another Cerinian... a being such as myself, on this planet. Scales wants her alive, for his own uses... which aren't what I have in mind. I need for you to kill her. No fuss, no real challenge. Her life, in exchange for a ticket home. That is what I offer."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes: Better late than never, but finally, an update! I was originally planning to cover Brian and Krystal's exploits after their escape from Krazoa Palace,** **however I decided to bump that up to next chapter. That one's mostly done and should be polished out and posted within a couple of weeks, RL concerns permitting. But for now, enjoy!**

Chapter 9: Confusion.

"I'm telling you, Sergey, he's not here!" Ron's voice, rife with puzzlement, echoed through the massive pit they were in. Absentmindedly, he stroked the wooden foregrip of the AKSU-74 he had slung across one shoulder. Both he and Sergey were looking at their wrecked BMW, and weren't too happy with what they found.

"He wandered off, I think." Sergey stated as he examined the mangled armored car once more. It was obvious Brian wasn't there, but it was even more obvious he was out wandering around these alien halls without any sort of armament, save possibly Jakob's old riot baton.

"Bloody right he wandered off!" Ron interjected, gesturing to the balconies above them. "I know we thought he might've been hurt, but maybe we should've left him his gun, right?" Sergey shot him a look; one of those glances that told him it was time to shut up and start thinking. "Er... right."

Sergey shouldered the HK G36 he carried. Touted as one of the most advanced combat rifles ever designed, the G36 was equipped with a low-power scope built into its carrying handle. The scope proved useful to Sergey, giving him a closer view of the surrounding areas, or at least within its limitations. After a quick scan of the upper balconies, he couldn't find anything. "It's been four hours, Ron. Brian could be anywhere."

Ron sighed, and glanced over the car again. The interior was trashed, but he noticed that the glovebox was open. Reaching into the wood-trimmed compartment, he rifled through a few papers and the owner's manual. "Just a minute. Didn't Jakob keep some extra magazines in here?"

Sergey turned to him, before nodding. "He made sure he had a bit of an emergency ammunition stash there. Perhaps Brian found Jakob's Glock somehow?" He ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. Even years of service with Spetsnaz hadn't prepared him with this. It was obvious they were somewhere... alien.

Ron nodded, looking up to the 'balconies' above them. "We haven't combed through all of this place either, Sergey. It's possible he got up and is trying to find a way out, mate." The redheaded Brit pointed up to the uppermost 'balcony.' "We haven't gone up there yet. C'mon, let's see if we can't find him and get out of this tomb."

Sergey nodded, and they began their ascent. Mere moments later they were on top of the circular balcony, overlooking the final resting place of their car. Ron and Sergey noticed multiple hallways carved into the rock within; the closest of which lay mere meters away. The ex-Spetsnaz operative pointed down it. "Try here first."

Ron nodded and stepped down the darkened hallway. The place seemed eerie, and he could have sworn he felt something... eldritch about it. He never liked H.P. Lovecraft's works, but his term fit the place like a glove.

The hallway extended about ten meters, ending in some sort of bas-relief depicting the face of some strange, alien god. Now... _that_ was eldritch to the core. "Other than this spooky carving, mate... there's nothing here." However, a dull glinting off to the side caught his eye. "Wait a second. I think I found something."

Sergey, who was standing guard at the entrance of the hallway, arched a brow. Faintly, he saw Ron bend over and pick something up. "They're bloody casings, Sergey! Nine-millimeter, too!"

The Russian was somewhat dumbstruck at their find. "Someone was shooting here, then. Brian found the Glock, I would think. Now, one question remains. What was he shooting at?"

Ron backed out of the hallway, his left hand wrapped around a few of the cold, spent pistol casings. His right remained on his slung AKSU, as he cast a suspicious glance across the balcony. "I didn't see any bodies there, Sergey. I didn't see any bloodstains either. I'm thinking whatever he shot at managed to walk away from it, and he did too."

Sergey shook his head, unslinging his G36. "Something is not right here. All we know is that Brian is gone, and he is more than likely armed. We think he shot at something, but there's no evidence he hit anything." He cast his gaze across the balcony as well, narrowing his eyebrows as he did so. His instincts were ringing warning bells inside his head. Training kept his reflexes in check; many others might have been prompted to fire a few rounds in fear. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of plodding footsteps cut him off.

Ron heard them as well, catching a shimmering outline almost exploding from a nearby hallway, headed for them. "Contact!" He frantically snatched his AKSU, bringing the SMG's sights to bear on the apparition. He hoped to God bullets would affect it.

Sergey heard Ron's warning shout and tried to bring his G36 to bear, but ran out of time. The 'thing' was on him as soon as he caught a glimpse. What felt like a small car slammed into his side, cracking into the Kevlar armor he had donned earlier. Sergey fell to the side, his breath knocked out of him with seemingly little effort. Oddly enough, he felt more surprised than afraid. Sergey had been one of the most skilled hand to hand combat instructors in his unit, and whatever it was managed to knock him down in a single blow.

Ron saw the apparition bowl Sergey over as if he were a feather pillow, and knew it was time to act. With feet to spare, he squeezed the AK's trigger. The rattling, roaring report of the cut-down bullet hose filled the air as a torrent of 5.45mm rounds were ejected from it. The weapon bucked and snarled in his hands, but he managed to keep it roughly aimed at its target.

To Ron's surprise, he was actually hitting it. A deep, inhuman growl emanated from it as it stopped, now positioned between Ron and Sergey. Now, Ron was dumbstruck. He had blasted almost half a magazine into the being, and it was still standing. A torrent of fire that would have cut down three people with little effort just... pissed it off. "Oh, bloody hell." Ron grimaced as the figure bore down on him once more. Ron could see a shimmering, ham-sized fist reach back, ready to pummel him senseless.

Sergey caught some of his bearings and snatched up his G36. Now it was time to act, and he sized his opponent down just as Ron dodged a nasty swing from the nearly invisible monster. Raising the rifle, he planted the sights on its 'back' and fired. The G36's blast was deeper and more authoritative than the AK's, and the creature actually roared in pain as it was hit. As it did, he could see its shimmering form shift, turning towards him. A plan developed in his mind, and he called to his comrade. "The head, Ron! Fire!"

Ron nodded and shifted the AK's sights upwards, where he could make out some sort of mis-shapen mass of what might have been its head. At nearly three meters tall, even if he missed he wouldn't hit Sergey. With a grin, he squeezed the trigger once more, the AK rattling in his hands and the tell-tale sickening splat of its rounds sinking into flesh rewarding their tactic. The creature pitched foward to the floor, the shimmering soon ceasing.

Sergey took a deep breath as he noticed the creature began solidifying, becoming visible as it lay there. "I will be damned... it is the Devil's grandmother!" The creature turned out to be some sort of massive, armored lizard. Sergey guessed it massed nearly two hundred kilos, and was built like a battle tank.

"Okay, Sergey." Ron spat as he collected himself, visibly shaking with adrenaline at their quick battle. "Sazbo's men I can deal with, but invisible alien lizards armored well enough to take rifle fire? What the hell's going on here?"

Sergey shook his head, pointing to the now-ruined head of the creature. "At least we know a solid shot to the head will take it down. Also, the armor can't stand up to a full-sized rifle." The Russian pointed to the creature's back. There were three large round dents in its armor in one tight cluster. A few centimeters below it, another tightly-grouped cluster of holes were punched through the armor. These were obviously from Sergey's G36.

Ron stared at the collection of dents and holes. "Well, I'd still rather not run into another one of these buggers. It had its fists, we had rifles... and it nearly knocked our blocks off!" The Brit blinked and slung the AKSU, looking out across the balcony once more.

"I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I believe we should investigate where it came from, Ron." Sergey pointed towards the hallway the creature had burst out of. "Brian might have been able to make an escape. Judging from the dents in its armor, someone shot it before we did."

Ron glanced towards the opening. There was a lot more light there; torches lined the wall every few meters or so. However, if it meant running the risk of meeting another one of those invisible lizards, he didn't know. "I'm still wary, Sergey. I want to find Brian and get the hell out of here as much as you do, but I'd rather stay in one piece!"

Sergey shook his head as he made his way into the hall, the G36 leading the way as he checked it out. The hallway extended for about one hundred meters, and seemed to have several rooms attached to it from what he could see. "I know you're afraid, Ron. However, if you actually do want to make it out in one piece, you won't want to stay here and let another one of those creatures kill you." The ex-Spetsnaz man stood still, watching the hallway with the G36 and waiting for Ron to come back to his wits.

Ron sighed and finally moved into the hall, unslinging the AKSU once again. "I still think it's a bloody bad idea, but I'll watch your back." He grit his teeth and moved along with Sergey, now noticing how large those doorways seemed.

The two came across the first doorway, which looked like a dead end. Several crates stood within a small room; obviously a supply closet. "This is a little more... mundane is the word, right?" Sergey asked as he peered around the wooden crates.

Ron nodded as he looked down the hallway, arching his brow as more glinting objects caught his eye near the next doorway several meters away. "Mundane, yeah. But, I think I see some more brass over there, Sergey." He hefted his AKSU again, realizing that he had a half-empty magazine in it. Quickly, he popped the nearly spent mag out and slid the last full one he had into the weapon.

Sergey nodded, aiming his G36 towards the doorway. "I'll check it out, Ron. Stay here and cover me." He moved forward, dress shoes impacting the ground as quietly as he could let them; the German-made automatic rifle leading his every step. As he neared the spent casings, he could tell something was wrong. The cascade of spent cartridge casings were from a small-caliber rifle. The experienced ex-Spetsnaz lieutenant knew they were 5.45mm... the same as Ron's AKSU.

Sergey bent down to take a closer look at the spent cartridges on the ground, picking up one of the rifle casings before looking at it. "These are not ours. Someone put a lot of fire on something behind this door. It looks like they were using AK74 variants." Their situation was getting stranger by the minute... first the lizard, and now more armed men.

Ron glanced through the small pile of brass next to the heavy wooden door separating them from what lay beyond. "I just had a thought, Sergey." Ron mused, scratching his chin. "What if Sazbo's men somehow made it here, too? We know they had '74s, also." For emphasis, he hefted his AKSU.

Sergey shook his head, gritting his teeth at the thought. "I hope we hid that money well, then. Sazbo will not stop at getting it back." He glanced towards the door, hefting his G36. "If it is Sazbo's men that did this, then we need to be careful."

"You're right about that, mate." Ron moved to the door, balancing the AKSU in his right hand as his left wrapped around what he assumed to be a lever-style doorknob. He pulled down on it and pushed, the heavy door gliding smoothly inward. Nothing prepared Sergey or Ron for what lay inside.

The small room the door opened into was a horrific scene of mass chaos. A large setup of computer screens and terminals that nearly reached the five-meter ceiling had been destroyed; the tell-tale signs of bullet holes decimating the machinery within. All of the computers looked extraordinarily advanced, and as out of place in this alien structure as they were.

However, the computers weren't what drew the gazes of the seasoned mercs. The bodies of several different creatures were sprawled on the floor, also victim of the shootout which happened within. All of them looked like they had been some sort of cartoon character brought to life. Three of them seemed to be some sort of dog or fox, one was a bird, another a rabbit, and three felines ended their grisly count.

Ron balked, lowering the AKSU as he stepped into the room. "My God. They took a bloody machine gun to these poor sods." He stared at the two bodies nearest him, an expression of horror growing on his features. Two fox creatures, one a male and the other a female, were in an embrace; one which wound up to be their last. "I know they aren't human, but... they weren't even armed!"

Sergey nodded as he followed Ron into the carnage. The Spetsnaz man wasn't fazed by the sight of gore, or even of what he assumed were two lovers whose lives were brought to a violent end. However, the fact that someone massacred unarmed beings, seemingly without any twinge of pity or remorse, wasn't settling right with him. Yet, the thought of facing a visible foe armed with weapons he had dealt with before was strangely comforting in this alien place.

Ron glanced around, winding his way past the corpses and to the computer banks. He glanced down toward a workstation, its keyboard marred with a few drops of blood and scratches of bullet fragments. Suddenly, something familiar yet very strange stared out at him. "Roman characters?" The Brit pointed to the keyboard, motioning Sergey over. "It's not a Qwerty or Dvorak layout, but these're standard Roman characters, and Arabic numerals?"

Sergey glanced to the keyboard as well, a puzzled expression firmly set upon his features. "Any other time I would say you are trying to kid me, Ron. However, this truly is strange." He shook his head, motioning to the bodies around them and the shot-up computers they stood at. "None of this makes any sense. One moment we're being chased by Nikolai Sazbo, and the next we're thrust into this. Brian's missing, we've been attacked by an invisible lizard, and we're standing in the midst of massacred cartoon animals. This makes no sense."

Ron sighed, switching his gaze between the carnage before him and the shredded machinery they stood next to. "You got me, Sergey. Neither you or I know what the fuck is going on here." His fist pounded on the mangled keyboard as his voice grew angrier. "All we wanted to do was to take our money and get on with our lives, dammit!" His tirade was about to continue, but a scuffling noise cut him off.

Both Sergey and Ron wheeled towards one of the nearby computer banks, the AKSU and G36 aimed at the perforated machinery. Their fingers remained off the weapons' triggers, but after the encounter with the lizard, neither of them were going to take any chances.

To their amazement, an access panel behind the ruined computers was shifted out of place, allowing a figure to emerge. The figure was a similar creature to the dead ones already in the room; a tan-colored canine with rather large ears. He was dressed in some sort of green bodysuit and brandished a small knife, which was dropped as he saw the two mercenaries and their rifles.

The canine was the first to react, looking across the room at the bodies of his compatriots. With a pained sigh, he raised his hands before speaking in a solemn voice. "I guess you're here to finish the job. Just make it quick." With that, he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the burst of gunfire.

However, the gunfire never came. Ron and Sergey just stared incredulously at the creature, who popped out of a computer and somehow spoke English. Ron regained a slight amount of composure first, and lowered his weapon. "Who in God's name are you?" he asked.

The canine winced, yet opened his eyes as Ron asked his question. "You're not here to kill me?" he asked, his frame trembling ever so slightly.

Sergey shook his head before lowering his rifle. "Not unless you give us a very good reason to." The Russian's eyes bored into the green eyes of the dog-creature. "Now, as my friend Ron asked. Who are you?"

The canine took a deep breath, trying to keep his eyes off his murdered friends. "My name is Matthew Phoenix, Cornerian Intelligence. We were here on Sauria to set up a communication station so they could contact the Cornerian Military in case of emergency."

Sergey nodded, not quite understanding what he meant about Corneria and Sauria, but he did his best to keep up. "And, if I can guess, the emergency happened anyway."The former Spetsnaz lieutenant motioned to the wrecked room, as well as Matthew's dead compatriots. "How did all of this happen?"

Matthew glanced around, following Sergey's movements.As he saw his murdered friends, an icy feeling gripped his heart. However, he had to tell them what was going on... these Lylat-speaking creatures might be able to help. "As I said, we were here to set up a communications station between Sauria and our military. But, there had been some recent civil unrest. Suddenly, we started hearing reports that the planet was breaking apart."

Ron blinked, interrupting the canine. "Wait a second. Do you mean... we're on an alien planet right now, as we speak?" Matthew nodded, which prompted another question from the perplexed Brit. "And this planet is literally breaking apart?"

Matthew nodded again, and catching a pause from Ron, continued. "Yes. We don't really have much equipment here, but we were able to figure out that several large chunks of Sauria have separated from the crust, and are in lower orbit. But, that's not important right now." Matthew sighed once more, his tail twitching as the recent memories flashed in his eyes. "We were about to broadcast an emergency transmission to Corneria. We managed to get a low-strength distress beacon activated, and I was trying to replace the imaging assembly in this workstation just as the doors burst open." Matthew tried to continue but stopped, the glint of tears coming to his eyes as he glanced to the stone floor.

Sergey stopped for a moment. This was a strange situation; an alien being coming to tears in front of him. But, Sergey understood he had lost his friends in a brief fit of violence. "What did they look like?"

The canine lifted his gaze back to the two ape-creatures, trying to blink his tears away, which didn't really work. "They looked like you. All of them. They were dressed like you are, and carried blasters." Matthew took a deep breath, and continued. "I was the only one hidden. Carla and Tanus had enough time to realize what was going on and held onto each other right before they started shooting!" Tears were replaced by an expression and a tone of voice that both Sergey and Ron knew very well... the canine creature was getting angry. "They ignored Janus' cries for mercy, and shot him where he stood. They didn't say a damn word as they cut through everyone else, and then shot the machines out. I was only spared because I ducked behind a radiation shield, cowering and whimpering like a kit!" Matthew clenched his fists as he relived the memory, glaring at the chaos they were in.

Ron nodded slowly, before extending a hand to Matthew. "I'm sorry about what happened, Matthew. We don't know much about what happened here either. We're just looking to get back home, but I think we might be onto something here." Waiting for Matthew to grasp his hand, he shook it. "I'm Ron Mitchell. My friend is Sergey Borodin."

Matthew blinked in surprise at Ron's actions, but found his anger cooled just a touch. "Tha... thank you, Ron. Just call me Matt, okay?" He took a look at Sergey, and tentatively extended his paw. Sergey grasped it with his hand and gave a firm, meaty shake; Matt realized the stocky creature was even stronger than he looked.

Sergey glanced towards the door. "I cannot tell you what happened here, exactly. We are mercenaries on our planet, and it seems as if we were transported here, after a fashion. By the casings left from the weapons they used, we think that the men who killed your friends are the same men who are chasing us, as well." The Russian had a rather matter of fact way of explaining things, although his comments made Matt's ear twitch.

"Wait a minute. Did you say my friends were killed by people from your world, people who are after you?" He gave the two a strange look. It was enough that those blaster-wielding ape-creatures killed his friends.

Ron nodded, giving a shrug as he did so.. "Yes. I'm not sure how or why any of us are here, but maybe we can find some answers. You're from your world's military... is there any other way of contacting them?"

Matt scratched his head, before nodding. "There's a short-range transmitter on the roof of this floating palace. I think they blew up our transport craft on the way in, but there's probably enough of it left that I can fire off a message." Another thought crossed his mind, and he managed a pained smile. "My sister's a mercenary pilot, and I think she said she was taking a job not too far from here. I might be able to raise her on the subspace array. Let's just hope it works."

Sergey nodded, before turning to the door. "That might be a good idea. I have a feeling that we might need some sort of help before all this is over with." With that he motioned Ron and Matt to the door, and they began their trek to the roof of the palace.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: A Fitful Rest.

The flight from Krazoa Palace had taken some time, Kyte speeding full-force through the constant downpour surrounding the Saurian holy site. Krystal was shivering by the time they exited the storm, her soaked fur providing little protection from the winds which attacked her body. They would be on the ground soon, she hoped... she knew her alien companion had to be suffering through his soaked clothing. She spared a glance back at him, allowing her hazel eyes to contact his bluish-gray ones.

Brian was shivering as well, but somehow he kept the discomfort to himself. Krystal wasn't as well-trained in the Art as her parents had been, but she could detect surface thoughts if she concentrated hard enough. If she was in physical contact with someone, she could probe deeper, but only if the other was receptive to it.

He was a strange one, at the very least. He sat behind her, but even on a twisting Cloudrunner, he kept his distance. Most others would have held onto her, but as far as Krystal could tell, his species had a taboo on physical contact, which was strange to the Cerinian. How could a species survive without the little gestures one made amongst friends or allies, such as a pat on the shoulder or a hug? Cerinians were by and large a supportive race, and gestures of affection were key to building and maintaining bonds.

Krystal shook that thought from her mind as she felt Kyte descending. At the same time, he spoke up in Saurian. "_We're nearing your ship now, Krystal. Just be careful... I've heard that Sharpclaw were spotted here recently_."

Krystal nodded and responded in kind. "_Thank you, Kyte. We will be careful, I promise you._" She smiled after that, despite her soaked and chilled discomfort.

Brian's voice made its way into the conversation, a confused expression apparent on his features as Krystal turned to look at him. "Uhm, what're you two talking about?"

Krystal grinned and pointed below them. "We're close to my ship, even now. It would be nice to warm your soaked bones, wouldn't it?" She definately felt cold; the stormy weather near the Krazoa Palace had taken its toll. She was running on empty, and the thought of her shuttle's nice, warm bed and some hot food became an enticing idea. She directed her thoughts toward Brian. He seemed uncomfortable, although the thought that he had survived far worse flitted across her mind.

Brian blinked, taking a moment to formulate his reply. "Getting this monkey suit dry would be nice. Tell you the truth, I hope you've got food there. Last thing I had was a slice of bread before we started out on this crazy trip."

Krystal nodded as a grin spread across her features. "I do, at least a little bit. Real food as well.. Marsat fruit, gulmar steaks, a loaf of parlath... I even think I have some Ranot as well, but we should go easy on that." Her stomach was grumbling a little too much for comfort.

The air was getting slightly warmer, which was a relief to their chilled bodies. Kyte slowed down a little, before speaking in a slightly lower tone than before. "_We're almost there, Krystal. Get ready to land._"

Krystal nodded before turning to Brian. "Almost there. We'll be landing in just a moment." Her smile widened just a bit, right before they heard the soft whispering rush of waves against sand. Even through the night sky, they could see the outline of the beach; a serene expanse of sand bordered by a thick growth of trees; broken only by the outline of the Cerinian's shuttle. To Krystal, it almost looked like Cerinia, which brought a fresh stab of grief to her heart. She stiffened, but managed to shake the feeling away just in time for the landing.

Brian slid off Kyte's back first, his dress shoes impacting the sand with a soft crunch. Krystal followed soon afterwards, a pat given to Kyte's head before she got off his back. "_Thank you very much, Kyte,_" she whispered, "_we'll make sure we do our best to retrieve all the Spellstones as soon as possible._"

Kyte nodded and glanced towards her as he folded his wings up. "_I'm sure you'll do well, Krystal. Just keep your mind clear and your heart filled with compassion; those qualities are far too rare on Sauria to be lost._"

Krystal smiled at Kyte as he took a few steps back, looking to the sky. "_I shall do my best, Kyte. Thank you for helping us, once again._" The vixen took a few steps back as Kyte lifted off into the sky, soon lost to the darkness around them.

With a soft sigh, Krystal turned around to survey her surroundings. The soft sand of the beach glinted in the faint moonlight, giving everything an ethereal glow to it. Even her shuttle looked as if it were but a ghost. The jungle beyond the beach was simply a dark mass; the expanse before them making her a little nervous.

Krystal turned toward her shuttle, its triangular profile resting upon the sand a few yards away from them. "We're here, finally... I don't know about you, but I could do with a little rest." The Cerinian gave another sigh as she pushed her tired, soaked body towards the craft.

Brian strode behind her, his dress shoes impacting the sand just behind her sandals. She could sense the exhaustion coming off of him in waves, and the chill from their recent ride hadn't helped anything. She was sure her new friend was in as much need of some relaxation as she was.

The Vucsed-class shuttle she escaped Cerinia in was more of a diplomatic transport than anything else; intended for transporting Council members in comfort. Spacecraft were extremely rare on Cerinia in the first place, and Krystal barely knew how to manually pilot it. However, it provided extremely comfortable living quarters, and that was what she needed as she reached the control panel for the cargo door. Her fingers fumbled with its unlocking code, before the panel gave a quick chime.

As if it were on cue, the main cargo door to the shuttle slid open, a three meter wide ramp slowly extending from the ship to the soft sand below. Krystal caught an impressed whistle behind her, and gave a tired smile towards Brian. "Well... we're here."

Brian cast a nod back to her as his eyes roamed over the spacecraft in front of him. She sensed a slight amount of amazement from him, plus a quick impression that from where he came from, spacecraft were far rarer than they even were on Cerinia. He did, however, respond to her for the first time since they landed. "This is your home sweet home?"

Krystal nodded as she stepped onto the ramp, her sandals clanking upon its metal surface. "Not by choice, but it is right now. It is nearly out of fuel... which is hard to come by here." She reached the small cargo bay inside the shuttle, seeing Brian slowly ascend the ramp.

The bay was large enough to house two hovercars, yet it was nearly empty save for a few boxes Krystal had never bothered to check into. It still held the sharp scent of repulsor coil coolant, which almost caused her nose to twitch. Brian also seemed to catch the scent, however he said nothing as he glanced around the bay.

Krystal placed her paw on the nearby control panel, pressing a button to close the door and retract the ramp. Slowly, she made her way to the back of the bay, where a small door awaited them to the rest of the ship. Already, she was shivering slightly. She needed a hot shower, a decent meal, and some sleep, all badly and exactly in that order.

Befitting its status as a diplomatic transport, the Vucsed was opulently furnished. The first thing which greeted their sight was the receiving room; a plush room filled with the rich, dark wood furnishings and plush royal blue carpet fit for a visiting diplomat. Krystal herself remembered her parents holding discussions with other Council members in this room, which brought a fresh stab of pain to her heart. She stopped for a moment.

"Something wrong?" The voice half-startled the young Cerinian, causing her to jerk her head over to Brian. He stood just inside the doorway, surveying the area. She could sense a minor amount of curiosity coming from him as well as a tiny bit of concern.

"Just a painful memory." Krystal sighed, and shook her head. Everything had happened so recently, and she was still having trouble trying to cope with what had happened. "My... my parents were killed. Two cycles ago."

Brian blinked at her. "That's something very hard to deal with, no matter who you are. I take it this was theirs?" He gestured at the richly-decorated sitting room, whose plush, forest green couches surrounded some sort of pedestal in the center of the room. Off to one side sat a small table; Brian assumed it was some sort of dining room.

Krystal's tail twitched as she stepped foward. "Yes, it was." Scenes flashed before her eyes, the fires and destruction which encompassed Cerinia; her friends and family dying on the streets of Cassat, their capital city. She could feel tears come to her eyes, but she tried not to let them fall. She needed to find out how her homeworld fell, so she could prevent it from happening here.

Brian held back a bit. He could tell she was upset with something, but this wasn't his place. Hell, none of it was his place. But, on the other hand, the upset foxette brought a new factor to the equation. This wasn't his place, but he wasn't going at it alone. He had a potential friend, albeit a strange one... and it wouldn't do good to lose her. Brian extended a reluctant hand, settling it upon Krystal's shoulder. "Everything's okay now. We'll find a way through this, somehow."

Krystal turned to him,the tears now traveling down her azure-furred cheeks. Even through the tears, she managed to cast a faint smile to her newfound friend before wrapping her arms around him in a brief hug. "Thank you."

Brian held in the brief moment of discomfort he had at the sudden contact, before giving her a smile in return. "I'm sure we'll get through this just fine. Just keep your eyes and ears peeled, and it'll be easy street." He blinked at that statement. He had no idea in Hell how to get home, and if Ron and Sergey were okay. They obviously survived the crash, but why did they leave him for dead? He arched his brow and looked toward the wood-paneled ceiling of Krystal's craft.

Krystal, on the other hand, broke off their hug and studied Brian's look. "Is everything okay?" she asked as she scratched the side of her muzzle. Her fur was still damp, and she was still a little cold from the storm.

"Just a few odds and ends not adding up, Krystal. I'm sure they'll piece together." The young merc shrugged as he looked around once more. His sodden jacket clung around his frame as he moved, yet from all outward appearances it did not seem to bother him.

Krystal nodded as she moved towards a more ornate panel embedded in the wall nearest the couches. "I really need a shower, Brian... if I get any colder, my fur's bound to freeze." She smirked at 'him and pressed the panel, a doorway opening into what looked to be a bedroom. She soon slipped into the room, the panel closing behind her.

Brian was left in the 'living room' area, now alone. He never thought he would be on some sort of alien spaceship, especially one whose interior was as opulent as a hotel suite. A stray thought took hold of his mind and he kicked off his dress shoes and socks, feeling the thickly padded carpeting. A smirk appeared on his features... this was exactly like a nice hotel room.

Brian's sport jacket was the next item to be removed, and it made a new home draped across one of the intricately carved chairs surrounding what he assumed to be a dining table. The weight of his personal belongings and the extra pistol magazines was a welcome burden to be removed, but he kept the Glock strapped under his shoulder. He wasn't about to give up a line of defense, especially since he wasn't satisfied they weren't in danger.

The couch looked inviting, however with his wet clothes he wasn't about to sit down anywhere. Now that Krystal was temporarily out of the picture, he could take a look around. The living area of the ship was fairly large; he guessed it to be about an entire third of the ship's size, if he counted the room his new foxette friend had ran into. The place was, as before, opulently furnished; the fit and finish of the living area could have been the equal to the presidential suite at most fine hotels.

The walls were paneled with wood, however it was stained a deep blue color to match the carpeting. The table he had set his coat on was a work of art, with intricate floral patterns hand-carved into the legs. The effect was somehow natural-looking and alien to him at the same time. "Jeez. Run into an English-speaking fox alien who owns a spaceship, that's tabloid-worthy. Said spaceship having Club Med luxury... priceless." Brian smirked at his comment, and cast his gaze to the couch.

The couch was no less impressive. The wooden legs were also carved with strange patterns, and the beige cloth looked warm and inviting. It sat in front of some sort of white pedestal which stood about two feet tall; supporting a transparent blue globe around three feet in diameter. Brian squinted and could barely make out several shapes hovering within. He'd ask Krystal about that later.

Taking a few steps back from the couch, Brian spotted another break in the wood paneling a few feet away from the one Krystal disappeared into. Slowly, he approached the 'door' and puzzled over it for a moment. "Hm. Wonder how you open one of these bastages?" He remembered Krystal pressing on the door she entered, so he placed a hand against it. He was startled when the door gave a soft hiss and slid open, revealing what lay inside.

The soft scent of cinnamon wafted to him as he walked into what looked to be a bedroom. Whatever race Krystal called herself, their bedrooms looked fairly different from a human's. The wood paneling of this room was a dark red and the lighting was extremely dim, which took Brian a moment to adjust to.

The bed was more of a circular cushion set in the middle of the room, covered with blankets and a few pillows. Another well-crafted wooden dresser was set against the far wall, next to another door panel. Two nightstands were set at the head of the 'bed', nothing more than wooden tables with a few unrecognizable personal effects set upon them. Brian's senses were tweaked; he could tell the room had been well-lived in, yet nobody had bothered entering in quite a while. Slowly, the young merc backed out of the room, aware he might have made a bit of a mistake. He didn't want to anger his new comrade, as strange as she might be.

The door shut itself with another soft hiss, and Brian stood in the room alone. Ignoring his damp clothes, he walked over to the couch, settling upon it with a sigh. "Dammit, guys. Where are you?" he asked to the empty air. "It's bad enough I'm stuck here. At least they'd have a better clue how to get out of this mess."

Nobody answered as Brian noticed the soft embrace of the couch he sat on. He was running near empty, and he needed to rest. A few hours' sleep wouldn't hurt, he decided. Brian let his eyes close and he was snoozing within minutes, a blank sleep soon turning into nightmare.

_"We've got incoming!" The shout echoed through Brian's radio as he stood near the road, nothing but blistering sand for miles around them. His M14 was already in his hands as he wheeled around, searching for targets. The Humvee he had just exited grinded to a halt, five trained Marines jumping out of it._

_The lead man, one Jack Hilman, rushed towards him, an M4 firmly entrenched in a ready stance. He was much older than the Marine sergeant, almost forty to Brian's twenty-one. He waved forward as he crouched next to Brian. "We've got intel that the insurgents are going to hit us from behind." He motioned to an outcropping of rocks maybe a quarter of a mile distant. "There's no IEDs or mines here, so we think they're going to try an RPG attack!"_

_Brian nodded at Kyle, before running for the drainage ditch next to the rough gravel road. Several of his squadmates were there, already aiming their weapons at the outcropping. "Alright guys, we've got confirmed hostile activity! You see anyone out there that ain't us and has a weapon, drop them!"_

_Several replies of "Yes, sir!" echoed from his squad. They had it in the bag, and a standard intel op just got a little more exciting. However, Brian caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A wave of fear shot up through his gut as he saw several figures emerge from the sand a mere fifty yards away, all carrying weapons. As he frantically snapped his M14 towards them, he felt hands grabbing his arms..._

Brian snapped awake, the dream pumping more adrenaline into his overloaded system. He still felt hands around his arms, and barely restrained himself from reaching for his Glock. He stared into Krystal's hazel eyes, which were regarding him with a worried expression. "Are... are you okay?" she stammered as she sensed his wave of quickly subsiding panic.

Krystal was having a very hard time trying to read her alien companion. Even through the

obvious difference in attitude, he was an alien being from a culture vastly different from her own. She knew it would take a little more work to get a decent read on his emotions, but for now she was running mostly blind. Krystal slowly pulled away as Brian stood up.

"It's just a bad dream." the human glanced over to the vixen, before shaking his head. "Next time, don't wake me up like that. I don't want to freak out and shoot you, alright?" He gave his holstered handgun a pat as he did so.

Krystal nodded, her tail swishing lightly behind her. She gave a strange glance to the weapon, before returning to its owner. "Do you keep that thing on you even when sleeping?" The Cerinian arched a brow at his strange behavior.

Brian blinked at the foxgirl, nodding at her as if she asked why the sky was blue. "In an unfamiliar area with possible hostiles lurking around? Uhm, yes?" His fingers brushed against the polymer grip of the Austrian semiauto, before returning to the patent leather belt cinched around his waist. "I'm not going to go anywhere without a piece, if I can help it."

The Cerinian shook her head and motioned toward the door she had disappeared into earlier. "Well, I'm sure you'll be absolutely safe in the bathroom, I'd bet." She gave a smirk at him and led him to the door, placing a paw on it and allowing it to open.

Brian glanced into another bedroom, fairly similar to the one he had entered. However, the scent of cinnamon was much stronger in here, and laced with humidity. He assumed it was Krystal's room, and arched a brow at her. "Well, I am in an alien spaceship, and I haven't found any monsters yet." He had a deadpan expression on his face as he looked around. Her room was in slight disorder, with sheets thrown all over the circular bed and a complete lack of personal effects on the nightstands or dresser. "Just let me know if you see any, and I'll shoot them down for you."

Krystal giggled, the first sign of laughter he heard from her. "Well, you should get a quick shower and dry off those clothes. You'll feel better." After heading into the far door, Krystal gave Brian a quick tutorial on using the fixtures in the bathroom, including the shower and auto-dryer. The equipment was high-tech for even Cerinian standards, and Brian seemed a little confused with them. However, Krystal had already slipped out of her room and back into the common area.

Krystal glanced around the empty living area, running a paw through her now dry headfur. The past few weeks had definitely taken their toll on her; living in the shuttle and now cast into the affairs of a planet in the balance. She couldn't take seeing another world destroyed like Cerinia, and she had vowed to stop Scales, no matter the cost.

Yet, she sighed... she had an ally in her fight, albeit a reluctant one. Brian would be a tough one to figure out, even for a being completely alien to her. For some reason, he spoke Lylat fluently, yet had no idea what or where Lylat even was. He also had no idea how he came to Sauria as well... although Kyte had mentioned rumors of strange creatures employed by Scales to serve his needs. Was he one of them?

As she pondered that thought, she glanced toward the viewglobe. She hadn't even touched it since her parents forced her aboard amid the burning chaos of Cassat and the missiles which were raining from the sky. She shuddered at the memory, seeing the rockets crash into buildings and spreading fire and toxic gas with them.

Krystal shook the horror from her mind, spotting Brian's jacket spread on the table in the middle of the room. Several objects were settled upon it, which caught her attention as well as provided a welcome distraction from her thoughts.

The vixen picked up a brown leather pouch which folded open as she picked it up. Curiosity took the better of her as she rifled through it.. several greenish, tough sheets of paper were stuffed within, obviously a form of currency. A laminated card bearing a picture of Brian was also tucked inside, inscribed with the legend 'Montana Operator's License.' Several other plastic cards bore a sequence of numbers along with garish graphics. Krystal arched a brow at that and then set the pouch aside. The language on the documents was Lylat, but she had never heard of a 'Montana' before.

The next object she settled upon was what looked like some sort of hinged case. After a moment of fiddling with it, she managed to open it, revealing a keypad and a screen. Was it possibly a communication device? She shrugged and set it aside, and picked up a set of what looked to be old-fashioned metal keys. One of them bore a strange 'A'-shaped symbol. Another was a checkerboard pattern inset in a sphere, under which the legend 'BMW' was inscribed.

A flash of color caught of her eye as she looked back to the leather pouch. A picture of some kind winked out at her, and she turned to look at it. She saw Brian in some sort of tan and brown uniform and helmet, standing in the middle of a barren, sandy field. He had some sort of blaster in his hands, yet he was looking towards the camera and grinning. Turning the picture over, she saw something written on the back: 'Goofin' Off, 25 October 2003, Iraq.'

Krystal spotted several other pictures inside the leather pouch, which she promptly picked up and examined. They showed the same thing; men in the same type of uniform sitting on their packs and chatting. Was Brian some sort of soldier? Her brow arched as she shrugged.

A voice from behind her was a startling source of distraction. "They were good men, all of them." Krystal tensed up as she heard Brian's voice, but glanced over to him. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." she trailed off as she glanced toward him. He stood there clad only in the pants he had on before. His mostly furless body was toned yet not stocky, however his lack of fur revealed a long, jagged scar which ran across his midsection. She also noticed some sort of marking on his skin on his right arm, yet she wasn't close enough for her to make it out.The marking struck her as being similar to her ceremonial brandings which every Cerinian obtained after passing their Rites.

"It's alright. You were curious, and my wallet was sitting right there." Brian shrugged as he made his way to the table. Krystal noticed his blaster was tucked inside the waistband of his pants, causing her to wonder if he actually did sleep with the weapon all the time. However, she turned back to the photos.

Another picture caught her eye, this time of a group of men milling around a large armored vehicle. Brian was also in that picture, appearing to be in conversation with another soldier. The two didn't look alike; Brian being slightly shorter and stockier than the other soldier, as well as much younger. There was something about him that Krystal couldn't place, but she gave the man with the blonde headfur and green eyes another glance. "Was he a friend of yours?" she asked.

Brian blinked and arched a brow. "Yeah. He was my commander. His name's Jack Hilman... saved my life once, actually." He glanced down to his scar then shook his head. "We were ambushed. I caught some shrapnel from a grenade and blacked out. Afterwards I woke up in a field hospital to find out Jack carried me several miles to safety, but he had been transfered elsewhere before I got the chance to thank him. It wasn't until about a year ago before he got out and finally managed to get in touch with me."

Krystal nodded, glancing toward Brian's scar. "Are you a warrior of some sort?" she inquired as she turned to walk towards another door in the spacecraft. If he was, it would at least explain his detachment, she mused.

Brian nodded as he followed her. "More like was. I was a soldier for a couple of years, until I was taken out of the service because of that wound. After that, I was sent back to the States and essentially kicked out of the Marines. I was unfit to risk my life for the government, so I decided to risk my life to fill my pocketbook. I went freelance."

"Freelance?" Krystal asked, running a paw through her headfur. She was slightly confused about all the details, but she gleaned what she could from his story. "You fought wars as a mercenary, then?"

"Pretty much." He shrugged before continuing, glancing over towards that strange pedestal. "I was mostly a courier, delivering highly sensitive material, money, and sometimes weapons. I was sent on jobs where there was a decent risk I'd be shot at. Sometimes I was, and sometimes I wasn't."

Krystal frowned, placing a paw on his shoulder. "You fought and killed just for money? There wasn't anything else besides that, no greater meaning besides being rich?" The Cerinian shook her head, sighing as she did so.

Brian sighed as well, turning to her with the hint of a glare. Blue-grey met sea green in a mute contest of will as his voice gave out with a slightly angry ring to it. "I once believed in ideals like fighting to secure the freedom of those who were oppressed by madmen. I also believed I was helping my own people keep their freedom by doing so. Now, I realize that if you're not willing to fight for yourself to secure said freedom, then you don't deserve it." He scoffed and turned away from the blue vixen. "Too many people die for ideals without a thought of living for themselves, Krystal."

"But they _are_ living for themselves!" Krystal countered, her ears flattening as she spoke. "At least they thought they had a purpose which was worth dying for, Brian... you can't take money with you into the Beyond."

Brian pulled away from her, shrugging as he did so. "Y'know what I live for, Krystal? Myself. And if I die for myself, at least I was chasing my own path." He turned around to face her, mirroring her actions by running a hand through his damp hair. "I admire your tenacity and devotion to duty, but I am going to make it clear that I'm doing this because I want to get home. Saving this hunk of rock is secondary; getting my ass home is my priority."

Krystal focused on him a bit more, sighing as she did so. He was very bull-headed, but she could sense some deep-seated sense of loyalty within him, even beyond his selfishness. She almost jumped in surprise as a few unfamiliar faces crossed her mind, until she realized she had picked up on one of his lines of thought. Still, she remained silent.

Brian shook his head and walked toward the table, picking up his sport coat and slipping it on. "I'm sorry, but I have to look after my own. That doesn't mean I won't help you, but keep my priorities in mind, alright?"

Krystal turned to him, a peculiar smirk on her vulpine features. She crossed the short distance between them in a few strides and stopped right before him, practically invading his personal space. "What about your friends... Ron and Sergey, right?"

Brian was caught off-guard by the Cerinian's advance, and balked. "What the? I never told you about them! How the hell did you find that out?" He backed off a few steps, and fixed her with a questioning gaze. "You're not a mindreader or something, are you?"

Krystal's smirk turned into a grin as she advanced toward him, her paw reaching out to grab his hand. "I'm not very good at it, but yes. Yet, don't give me your 'I'm the only one I care about' act. You're concerned for your friends... and even if you're not willing to save Sauria, you're willing to help them, right?"

Brian glanced to her as he felt his hand being taken; the sensation of short, soft fur on his skin a little confusing at first. "Pretty much, yeah." After a moment he pushed her paw away, shaking his head as he did so. "Listen. I want to get off this rock with my comrades. You want to make sure this rock doesn't explode. In order to do either, we need to think tactically. We need a plan."

Krystal blinked as he pushed her paw away, but listened to what he had to say. Her other paw scratched her muzzle thoughtfuly as she regarded the young merc. "What sort of plan are you thinking of?"

Brian sighed as he made his way back towards the ornate dining table, his hands scooping up his personal belongings and tucking them into the pockets of the sport coat. "That's the problem. You do realize that in order to plan, you need intel? You said that you're trying to get those... whatchamacallits that will put this planet back together, right?"

The vixen nodded as she glanced back towards Brian, who was buttoning his jacket. "You mean the spellstones, right?" She wasn't exactly sure how they would get to them, but somehow she knew they would be able to obtain them.

Brian sighed, slipping into one of the chairs before fixing her with a hard stare. "Yes. Now, these spellstones aren't going to be easy to find, and I'd be a fool to think they're unguarded. If you want me to offer my advice on tactics and how to go about this, you'll need to give me some info." He cast his gaze to the ceiling as he noticed Krystal walking to one of the other chairs. "For what it's worth, you're getting a great deal on this consultation, Miss Haleth. I'd normally charge forty grand."

"Forty... grand?" Krystal arched an eyebrow as she slid into the seat across from him, offering him a slight scowl. "Are you still thinking about money?" She attempted to sense him once more. This time a few hazy images floated to her mind, plus the general idea that the amount of money he had stated wasn't just small change. "I can't believe you're thinking about money at a time like this, Brian!"

The young merc shrugged before smirking at her. "Well, it's all part and parcel of dealing with a soldier of fortune. However, obviously this is free. The only payment you need to worry about is finding our asses a way home."

This time, it was Krystal's turn to balk. She halted before settling into her chair, stopping a soft growl of annoyance as she did so. However, the irritated tone in her voice gave Brian the same idea. "I can't promise you a way home! I don't have a damned idea how in Melos' name you and your friends even arrived here!"

Brian glanced down and shook his head, offering a sigh to the young vixen. "If there's a will, there's a way. That's the deal. I help you get this Humpty Dumpty back together again, and you'll help my comrades and I get back home. I've got a life I need to be living, for Christ's sake." He then looked up at her, short brown hair framing his face in a way that made him look far older than his twenty-five years.

Krystal blinked as he looked at her. She could tell her comment had sparked some sort of doubt in his mind, which made her mentally wince. She couldn't help but be honest with him, however what if he and his friends really were stuck here, placed in her shoes? Another slew of bad memories crossed her mind, and once again she fought to hold back tears. "I'm sorry... I was too harsh. Losing your home... hurts." This time she visibly winced.

Brian shook his head again, arching a brow at the slightly distraught vixen. He wasn't a mindreader like she was, but it was obvious they both were under a load of stress. "You weren't harsh. You're being realistic. Only thing we can do is try." The merc shrugged, and with a reluctant hand grasped one of her paws. "With a good plan, you'll save the day, and I'll be home, enjoying enough money to retire on... unless I have to dodge hitmen."

Krystal arched a brow at Brian, her eyes trying to force away the tears. As he held her paw, another few stray thoughts crossed her mind. "You stole someone's money and they were chasing you because of it?"

Brian nodded, removing his hand abruptly. "Pretty much. My comrades and I weren't paid for a job we did for someone... the man's no better than a terrorist, honestly. So, we decided to clean out one of his accounts. However, he caught us while doing it... one of my friends was killed in the process."

The vixen's eyes widened. "How long ago was this?" She had the feeling it was recent, but losing a friend might explain his strange mood Yet, that brought up another question. "Is this how you ended up here?"

"About..." Brian checked the watch hanging off his left wrist. "...ten hours ago. Christ. Hell of a day." Catching another strange glance from the Cerinian, he sighed. "They chased us from the bank. Jakob was killed, but Ron, Sergey and I made it out alright. However, they were after us, and we hit some sort of strange storm. It started raining very hard and the sky lit up with green lightning bolts. It was..."

"...You said green lightning bolts!?" Krystal jumped out of her seat, her eyes boring into his. "Did they look like this?" The vixen held her paws a foot or so apart and closed her eyes. It took a short moment for her to channel her energy, yet her paws started to glow. It took a major effort for her tired mind to concentrate on the spell, yet tiny bolts of green lightning started to arc between her fingers.

Brian's eyes widened much as hers did. "Holy hell!" His exclamation startled her, which caused the spell to fade. She arched a brow at him, before taking a few steps closer. "I'm not very well versed in other aspects in the Art, as it was called on Cerinia. However, I believe what you experienced was a practitioner of the Art... someone much more powerful than anyone I have ever heard of."

Brian looked Krystal over, a strange look apparent on his features. "You're saying that someone, rather than something, brought us here? Plus, you might know who caused us to be placed in this podunk place?"

Krystal arched her eyebrows, studying the human merc. His interest was definitely piqued, especially after her demonstration. She was also lost in thought... there must have been a few scattered survivors on Cerinia, yet she knew there wasn't anyone who knew the Art well enough to teleport a live Cerinian more than a few feet, let alone teleport aliens from a planet with Melos knew what between them. Kyte's comment about strange creatures in Scales' employ also came to her mind. "I can't tell you much, Brian. It's possible that one of my kind brought you and your friends here, but Cerinia was almost destroyed two cycles ago." The vixen steeled herself against the grief as she tried to continue matter of factly. "My parents were... murdered at the same time a military force bombarded our planet. My uncle forced me into this craft and set the autopilot program before rushing out to help however he could." Her attempt at holding back the pain failed, and the tears flowed down her cheeks freely. "S... so, if one of my... kind is here and p...powerful enough to help, t...they will be easy... to find."

Brian grit his teeth as he saw Krystal sobbing. This wasn't his forte. He was dealing with an alien under a lot of stress and grief, and he was no councilor. He was a former Marine and a mercenary. He inwardly admonished himself as the blue fox cried a little more. However, she gave a little hope to his situation, but there wasn't any way he could do the same for her. "Eh, listen. I think you need to get a little rest, Krystal. You've been through a lot more than I have, and I can't have you breaking down in a critical moment." Sighing, he stood up and offered a hand towards her. "I'm going to take you to your room."

Krystal looked towards the merc with blurry eyes, about to decline his offer. However, she knew he was right. She was running on empty, and even though she was hungry she needed some rest. Everything still hurt so much, and she was lost. Sauria was counting on her... on them, and... "A... alright, Brian." Slowly, she grasped Brian's hand, after which he hauled her up.

A few steps later, the former Marine guided the teary-eyed vixen to her bedroom, placing a hand upon its door to open it.He motioned her to the bed, sighing as he did so. "I'm no expert, but perhaps some sleep should help. We'll grab some food in the morning and figure out what we need to do."

Krystal nodded and sat upon her circular bed as the mercenary left the room. He was right, but the darkness and silence of her room was almost discomforting. "Mom... Dad. I wish you were here right now. Just... tell me what I need to do to get out of this... please." The young vixen curled up into a ball, a few more sobs escaping her before sleep claimed her.

Brian had already made his way to the couch, settling on it with a sigh. "Jesus. I get to take on a damn army with just a handgun, and the only one capable enough to help me out is some cartoon fox who is on the verge of mental breakdown." The merc growled at that thought, before settling back. "I just hope Ron and Sergey are having a better time of it than I am. At least maybe Sazbo thinks we're dead, and when we get back I can finally retire. Blow what Sergey thinks. I'm getting too old for this shit."

Brian grumbled a bit more before he laid out upon the couch. He wasn't tired, but Lieutenant Hilman had instilled more than a few soldier's habits in him... the first being a good soldier always took the chance to sleep and eat anytime he got. Within a few minutes he was asleep, leaving the ship to silence. Both heroes, one grieving and idealistic, the other cynical and reluctant, slept silently, facing an uncertain future.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes: Well, I apologize for not keeping it coming as quickly as I should; I haven't had too much time for writing, lately. This one's better than the last few, at least in my opinion... heh. Now, Fox and Co. will be making an appearance in the next chapter, and things will start coming together... after I introduce everyone the story will start taking a bit more focus on Krystal and Brian, detailing their trek through Adventures. If anyone wants to toss any compliments, complaints or tomatoes my way, just give me a review or toss me a PM, especially if you have any requests for what you want to see... I'm always searching for ideas!**

Chapter 11: Moonlighting.

The old, decrepit ship plodded on through the vast vacuum of space. Even to an untrained eye, the ancient converted freighter looked as if it was ready for the scrapyard, its weary fusion drivers struggling to propel its bulk through empty space.

The vessel looked like an old dog bone that had been chewed on for quite some time. Hull plates which were once pristine white had faded with solar radiation, and large patches of rusted-away paint told an obvious story of being risen from a planetary salvage yard. However a bright new symbol, depicting a star surrounded by a burst of yellow flame, was emblazoned on the old freighter's main support fin. Underneath the stylized symbol the legend _Moonlighter_ was proudly displayed, giving a name to the aging craft. The logo verified that the junked freighter was actually operational and not a drifting chunk of space debris, and was the main reason the owner had scraped together the credits to have it painted on.

The bridge was a cramped, dreary place, offset only by the large viewport looking upon the empty expanses of space. Only one seat was present, which was currently occupied. The rest of the bridge was a mess of twenty year old equipment. The electronics were courtesy of a refit several years ago, although it was obvious it was a hack job done to press the freighter into service to defend a small asteroid field outpost. Unshielded wiring hung everywhere. The ship, to the dismay of the one piloting it, was barely spaceworthy and wouldn't pass inspection standards anywhere else but the nearly lawless areas on the Fringe.

Its pilot wasn't pleased at the moment, as a tan-furred paw flipped the main autopilot switch. The fennec fox attached to that paw then swung out of her chair, her ears flattening just a bit as an aftershock to the news she had just received.

Fara Phoenix strode from the tightly-packed bridge and into the _Moonlighter's_ main corridor, which was a mass of bare metal and exposed wiring. Almost tripping over several wiring conduits, she made her way to the galley; a barely-functional kitchen that seemed about as well-equipped as her apartment on Corneria. The fennec vixen sighed as she looked over the few metal tables and basic cooking equipment the ship had, before meeting the gazes of her two fellow pilots of fortune.

A blue avian and a pink-furred cat(Fara had suggested that she quit the fur dye, but she never listened) glanced up at her from the table nearest the cooling unit. The bird spoke up first, being his usual cocky self. "So, foxy, what about the payment?" Falco Lombardi wasn't one to change his tune, even after leaving Star Fox several years ago.

Fara clenched her paws before leaning upon the table. "Well, hotshot? Your little stunt with the nova bomb scared the fur off our client's kits. For that, he's docked thirty percent off an already paltry check!" With a growl, the fennec pushed herself off the table, glaring at Falco as she did so. "I know you did the job, but you really need to tone it down. You're fighting bandits, not the Venom Empire!"

Falco took the scolding in stride, as he usually did. "Well, how should I know which transport they were going after? A kill's a kill, but some clients like to see fireworks, right?" The cocky falcon threw up a feathered hand in disgust. "Sometimes these bozos just need to sit down, let us do our work, and be happy they hired us instead of letting their tightwad asses be blown off."

The feline, one Katt Monroe, glanced between the bickering fox and avian, staying out of the argument as much as she could. Both of them had valid points, but their lack of payment would be hampering things. As Team Firestar's 'accountant,' she knew they were barely scraping by, and they needed as much business as they could just to maintain the _Moonlighter_, let alone buy another ship.

Fara glanced to Katt, her hazel eyes meeting the feline's sky-blue ones before returning to Falco. "Dammit, Falco. I'm thinking the same thing you are, but you need to remember that we're not with Fox anymore. General Pepper's not signing our paychecks, and when you get a pay cut every time you make a mistake, it starts adding up to being grounded pretty quick!" The vixen offered a sigh of frustration before walking to the cooling unit. The top of the glorified fridge was opened and she fished around until her paw returned with a can of some cheap Fichinan beer. It was swill, but after a mission a cold one was a bittersweet tradition for her. The fennec popped the top and took a swig of the nasty-tasting concoction.

Katt turned to Falco, her dull claws tapping against the table as she did so. Her voice gave out in a tone that a human would have recognized as a Southern accent... however it was native to a small region on Corneria. "Listen, hon. All we're saying is to be careful. We're barely floating in the black, but at least it's better than working for the military, right?"

Falco sighed, switching his gaze between Katt and Fara. He admitted that being a free agent was a little easier than being on the Cornerian Army's leash, but it had its fair share of drawbacks. This situation was one such drawback, plus never knowing when they were going to find work bothered the feathers out of him. "Right." With a shake of his head, the avian stood up and walked off, his feet deftly dodging the assorted wiring and other junk strewn on the deck of the ship.

Fara glanced to the departing Falco, then back to her beer. "Geh. I shouldn't be hard on him, but we need these clients, Katt." She took another draught of the swill befosre setting the plastic can on the nearby counter. "I know Falco's a good pilot, but... hell. We're struggling. I just don't know how Fox made this look easy." A flush of anger spiked in her heart, but the experienced vixen hid it well... or so she thought.

Katt shook her head, propping her boot-clad feet up on the table. Her tail twitched as she considered her words, staring her boss down in the trashed galley. "You'd know better than me, boss. Y'all had a history together, but I got the idea you're not all over it." Catching a snort from Fara, the feline pressed her line of inqusition onward. "Hell, when we were roomates, you told me you were almost about to get a ring on your finger, girl! You don't just forget that easily!"

Fara held up a paw, shaking her head as she did so. "That was about four years ago, Katt. You're right in the fact we've got a bit of bad blood, but I'm just more perplexed at how he held things together for this long." The fennec picked up her beer and took another draught, continuing after she swallowed the vile brew. "All of us could be holding cushy teaching jobs at the Academy, but here we are, scraping by as mercs. I'm a damn mercenary commander and I've got less in my account than I did when I was a junior test pilot!"

Fara slammed the can of beer down, sloshing some of the amber liquid onto the counter and her paw. However, she didn't seem to notice or care. "And now, Fox is coasting on his glory days of taking Andross out, and we're stuck babysitting tourists and mining operations. If we're lucky, we get a Ranger patrol paying us to cover them when they flush out some Venomites. Exciting job, I tell you."

Katt shook her head, placing a a paw inside a pocket on her jumpsuit and withdrawing a pen, which she twirled around her fingers. "I remember you telling me it wasn't about the money, Fara. I also remember you telling me it wasn't about the glory." The feline shrugged before she glanced at the galley's ceiling, which consisted of old pipework and even more wiring conduits strung amongst steel I-beams.

Fara sighed, her tail twitching as she picked up the half-empty beer once again, another swig of the cheap liquor finding its way down her throat. She wasn't normally a drinker, but some memories were best left forgotten. "It was Fox, then. He didn't want to put me in danger, so he kicked me off Star Fox. I was angry and thought I could make it as a merc. Only thing I didn't know at the time was that most mercenaries live off of luck, danger, and enough Insta-Pasta to make a college student lose their appetite."

Katt chuckled and pointed the pen at her commander. "Well, we might be eating Insta-Pasta, but we are making it. Barely, but we're making it. We've got craft we aren't making payments on, and we're one of a handful of groups out of there that even have G-diffuser fighters. Hell, we have Arwings!" The pink cat waved her paw, taking in the ancient command ship they were piloting. "Sure, the _Moonlighter _is no _Great Fox_, but we're making do. Plus, you need to admit Falco's got a bit of a reputation, and we've gotten more than our fair share of contracts because our clients heard he's flying for us."

Fara nodded, pushing the beer can aside. "I guess it could be worse. We could be fighting in rickety Kaltec Firecrackers, at least." She smirked at that, opening the cooler unit once more and extracting two small white boxes. "And, you're right about having enough Insta-Pasta to gag a college student. Now, do you want the Chunks Deluxe, or do you want the Broth Delight?"

Katt winced as she heard her choices. "I'll take the broth. The Chunks tasted like something the Academy would serve a punishment detail... when the chef was being lazy." She laughed as Fara threw both boxes into the prep unit before making her way to the table. "But, I did some calculations, and have some good news."

Fara's ears perked as she sat down. "What sort of good news is that? We'll be able to afford the more upscale holoscreen dinners before long?" Her stomach growled at that, remembering it had been four months since she had eaten a decent meal. She also found the irony in getting excited over actually being able to afford a holoscreen dinner every now and then, but they did have to watch the bottom line.

"Well, if you wanted to blow part of our rainy day fund on that we could." Katt shook her head. "I'm saying that if we can get a few more decent missions under our belt, we might have enough to afford a better ship... as long as we can pawn off the _Moonlighter_ for a decent price." Her paw extracted a datapad from another jumpsuit pocket, sliding it over towards the fennec.

Fara picked up the datapad, glancing at the info on the screen. "Well, the Army has finally decided to retire its fleet of Peregrines, eh?" She remembered serving on one of those ships; light cruisers that were already outdated by the time Andross rose to power on Venom. The Academy had plenty of jokes to go around about the 'old birds.'

Katt laughed, waving a paw. "I know, I know. We're actually in a state that we think a damn Peregrine is an upgrade to what we're riding in, but at least they're solid, right? At half a million credits the price is right... and rest assured we can pull some strings and get one of those carrier variants. I'll even bet a call to your dad or Pepper might get us one with an Autochef, too."

That appealed to Fara's sense of appetite, even after she heard the prep unit signaling that their cheap Insta-Pastas had been cooked. She stood up and walked to the cooling unit, fished out another beer and tossed it to Katt, who caught it in an outstretched paw. "Well, raw food materials are even cheaper than Insta-Pasta, and having an Autochef means we'd be eating like kings. That'd be good for my morale, at least." The fennec grinned as she opened the prep unit and brought out the two bowls of bland, chewy noodles.

The pink cat nodded as Fara set one of the bowls in front of her. "Thanks, boss." After taking a few bites of the reconstituted food, she stopped. Pointing her fork at the fennec, she posed a question. "Now, let's say it's a few months from now. We do a few jobs, get in one of those used Peregrines, and start making some real money... what if we run into Fox?"

Fara shook her head. "I have no idea, Katt. I guess I still like him, but to tell you the truth I'm still pissed. He had the chance and he blew it, and I know if he got the chance at me again... he'd just blow it again." Her own fork pointed at the ceiling. "I'd rather sit out here on the Fringe, knowing that I'm not going to run into him. At least I'm closer to Matt, just in case anything goes wrong on that backwater dig they've got him stationed at."

Katt sighed. They had this conversation before, and while she really admired her friend, she knew that she was still hung up on McCloud. "I'd hate to say you have a point, but you might not want to waste your life away just over one fox. Hell, I'll bet he's got some sort of new flame now. If he has, why can't you?"

"Easy for you to say, but you're the one chasing after Falco." Fara stuck her tongue out; a sophomoric gesture but a satisfying one for her nonetheless. "All I'm saying is that I don't know what would happen if we ran into each other. I could wrap myself around his finger in an instant, or I could spit in his face. I just don't want to find out which." Fara took a bite out of her Insta-Pasta, and immediately winced. "Jeez, Katt. You were right."

Katt laughed as Fara grudgingly took another bite. "I told you it tasted like something the Academy would give to a punishment detail. Thankfully I only ordered two cases of it before I realized my mistake, so we don't have to suffer through eating too much of the tripe." The feline got a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she pointed the fork at her boss. "Brings back memories for you, eh?"

Fara rolled her eyes, grumbling as she did so. "Oh... pike off, Katt." However, she did grin after swallowing her mouthful. "Now, I recall you were along with me more than a couple of times on punishment detail... like when you buzzed the control tower when General Farsley was giving his speech to the command staff." Katt's eyes widened, which caused her to laugh. "Oh, don't give me that look! I wasn't the one who had to clean the water treatment unit for a month."

Katt shook her head, taking another bite of her pasta. "Well, I can't say it was the brightest time of my Academy career, but I guess we all had our days." She waved her fork at Fara once again. "At least some of our friendships are still going strong. There's Bill Grey, Falco, Miyu, Fay, and if you want to consider him... Fox?"

Fara shook her head. "I haven't talked to Fox in three years, Katt. All I know about him is from what Bill's told me... and I haven't talked to Bill in about eight months. I'll have to spring for a hyperline call soon, but I'll see how he's doing." The fennec took a few bites of her food, before standing up and taking the half-eaten bowl to the waste compactor. "Yeah, this is way too much like bad Academy food. I'm going to see what else we have."

Katt chuckled, waving her fork at the cooler. "The new Cheese Slop isn't bad, I've heard. At least it would beat what you were trying to wolf down." The cat stood up, making sure to toss her empty bowl and used fork into the dishwasher before dodging the assorted junk on the way to the door. "I'm going to check on Falco... making sure he isn't going to jump ship for a few days like he likes to do." With a silly grin she stepped out into the _Moonlighter's_ main corridor, peering down it to see if she could spot him.

Fara sighed as she picked up another box of cheap noodles from the cooler. Even wasting bad food like that hurt. Their entire situation frankly stunk, but the fennec had pride to protect. She knew that one hyperline call to her father would pretty much guarantee them a Peregrine for no money at all, but none of it was worth anything if they didn't work their tails off getting it. Let Fox coast around in the Great Fox, making a killing off of being famous. Fara was going to equal his success by crawling to the top. She growled as she shook the thought out of her mind; she had a mercenary company to run and getting angry about Fox would only cloud her judgement.

The prep unit chimed, startling her out of her thoughts. Fara hadn't realized she had started cooking her new pack of Insta-Pasta. She shrugged at her inattentiveness as she removed the box from the cooker, unceremonally dumping the noodles into her bowl. The fennec dug in, lifting the noodle-laden fork to her lips as another chime rang in her ears... this time from the hyperline terminal next to the counter. As Fara turned around to initiate the conversation, nothing prepared her for what was about to happen.

The two human mercenaries and one Cornerian officer stood in one of the upper hallways of the palace, staring at a short stairwell which, by the sound of heavy rain upon stone, led to the roof. The ever-present rain pounded in sheets, assaulting the blue stone around them as effectively as any army. Matthew glanced upward, the pistol Sergey had given him a reassuring weight in his paw.

Ron glanced around, spotting an alcove near the stairway which was all too familiar to the both of them. A question popped into his mind and he turned to Matt, arching an eyebrow as he spoke. "Hey, mate. If you were to call for help, how long would you expect it to arrive?" Without waiting for an answer, the Brit ducked into the dark alcove and emerged with three large nylon bags, almost staggering under their weight.

Matt blinked at Ron's behavior, and glanced to the stairway, his ears perking at the continuous patter of rain mere meters away. "My sister's spacecraft is a clunker. Even at top speed it would take her perhaps two days. If there are any Cornerian Army vessels within emergency range, they could be here in twelve hours." However, the fennec glanced at the bags Ron was carrying, elicting an arched eyebrow from the fox. "What the hell are those for?"

Sergey sighed, patting the stock of his slung G36. "That is a rather large amount of currency from our world. We stole it from the people who killed your friends, so we would rather not let them get their hands back on it." The ex-Spetsnaz officer shrugged as he made his way to Ron, who handed him one of the bags. "You could consider it revenge, if you will."

Matt sighed at Sergey's mention of his friends, which he wished he hadn't brought up. "That's brilliant. Let's hope they don't find you with it." The fennec shook his head. "All I want is to get out of here and warn Command about what's going on here. I'm pretty sure Venom has a hand in this."

Ron glanced over to Matt as he passed the second bag to Sergey. Even though the bag was heavy with cash, the ex-Spetsnaz agent handled it easily. "Venom?" he inquired. "What's Venom?"

Matt blinked as he stuffed his new handgun into his jumpsuit's integrated holster, his eyebrows raising. "Uhm... if you don't know already, it's a long story. In short, they were a rogue planet in this system. They almost conquered us eight years ago, but we beat them back... their Empire is in tatters but sometimes they start forward on grand schemes to take over the system again."

Sergey nodded, glancing up towards the rain-filled sky outside the shelter of the stone entryway. "Well, the sooner you get a message off, the sooner we can find out how to get home." Once again, the mercenary hefted his G36, shouldering the weapon and checking out what little he could see of the rain-soaked roof.

Matt scoffed, his ears twitching at the two ape creatures. "Look, I appreciate you agreeing to help me and everything, but I really don't see how my government is going to be able to help you find a way home." The fennec pointed up the stairs, accentuating the rain with a gesture of his paw. "We're on a backwater planet that's under some sort of attack. We might have to mount an attack, or get Star Fox out here at the very least... we might not be able to get you home."

Ron shook his head as he begun to ascend the stairs. "We don't have much of a choice, mate. We want to pull our friend's balls off the wall and get out of here. I'll take my chances with your government if that means Sazbo won't be able to screw us proper." As he neared the top, he lifted his AKSU, scanning the stormy environment ahead.

Matt sighed and shook his head, allowing Sergey to pass him before he followed. The two were stubborn, that was for sure. Considering the fact they were willing to care more about a small fortune than the turmoil they found themselves in, he wasn't surprised. As he reached the top, he saw the familiar profile of the Krazoa Palace's roof... and their now-mangled _Shrike_-class transport craft.

As he had suspected, the transport craft that had taken his team to Sauria had been destroyed. While the dagger-shaped craft wasn't burning, several large holes had been torn through its fuselage. The engines had been similarly damaged, and he knew that he wasn't about to leave Sauria in that particular ship. "Crap. They really did a number on it, but hopefully these old _Shrike_-class shuttles are as reliable as they say they are."

Ron sighed, checking his AKSU once more. They hadn't ran into any opposition in their trip to the roof, however he was still concerned about invisible alien lizards and unknown AK-toting hostiles. He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, thankful he had discarded his tie hours ago. "I hope your bloody comm gear is working, Matt.

"You're not the only one. "The fennec muttered as he glanced at the entry hatch. It stood ajar; apparently someone had broken in before they destroyed the _Shrike._ The fact that someone might have remained behind crossed his mind, and he pulled the bulky handgun from his holster. The weapon was substantially heavier than a standard issue PP-13 blaster pistol, and it was an old-style chemical firearm at that. However, the two aliens had assured him the pistol worked, and was powerful enough to take on any reasonable threat.

Ron and Sergey went into defensive stances as soon as Matt pulled out the P14, keeping their eyes and ears open for any possible threat. As the fox peered into the interior of the craft and holstered the weapon, they moved to the door, assault rifles up and ready for action.

"Alright, mate." Ron stated, the patter of the rain upon the ancient stone and the side of the destroyed craft making him raise his voice, "See what you can do. We'll cover you!" He pointed the squat AKSU toward the stairway they had just ascended, while Sergey scanned the rest of the area, taking note of all the features of their location.

The roof was styled as more of a courtyard, and was almost abnormally huge; he guessed it to be about three hundred meters end from end. He couldn't see any sort of landscape beyond the dark sky, and the driving rain made it hard for him to see. The G36's integral scope helped somewhat, but the foul weather cut down on his vision. The most unique feature he could see was the platform in the center... some sort of huge jewel sat there, suspended in space. Peering through the scope, he could see some purplish streak winding around it. Seeing this drove home the fact that the former Spetsnaz commando was in a truly alien place.

Meanwhile, Matt was busy sifting through the _Shrike's_ interior. The craft had survived well enough, despite the hole blown into the side of it and several locked doors being mangled beyond reason. Luckily, the cockpit door stood slightly ajar, and he managed to force it open. Beyond that was the cockpit, which seemed relatively intact.

The fennec surveyed the controls, taking a quick stock. The ship still had power; massively redundant system components and backup fusion batteries saw to that. The flight controls were mangled; there was no way he was getting off Sauria in the craft, even with the massive hull breaches it had suffered.

A scowl crossed his features as he saw the main comm unit had been damaged as well, probably fairly beyond repair. However, the hyperline terminal seemed intact. He flipped a few switches on the console and gave a grin as the screen lit up with the familiar blue and white 'HyperLine- Reaching out for Lylat' logo. He was online, but he was restricted to the hyperline numbers he had in his head.With a shaking paw, he punched in the number to reach Fara, and silently prayed she would pick up.

Fara punched the button to take the incoming call, blinking when Matt's features stared back at her. He looked tired and a little worried, but she knew the stresses of a comm specialist could make one cranky. "Hey, bro!" the vixen beamed. "Got some time off to tell me how Tanus and Carla are driving you insane with their engagement?" She usually got a call from him every few weeks, venting about his coworkers' constant chat about their love lives.

Matt shook his head, and the words he spoke drove a spike of ice through Fara's heart. "No, Fara... they're dead. We've been attacked, and I think Venom's in on it. You need to get some military assistance out here quickly, sis!"

Fara blinked, shaking her head as she did so. She wasn't expecting something to go wrong, but... "I'll give Pepper a call immediately, Matt. Also, I'm booking over there. Find a safe place and stay put... get everyone together and hide a few days. We'll be there sooner than the Army... keep yourselves safe."

Matt nodded. "I'm the only one left, sis... some sort of ape creatures burst into our station and opened fire. I ducked into one of the machines to escape them. I'm with two more of these ape creatures who seem to be fighting the other group... we're lightly armed, but they mentioned they're trying to get back to their home planet with an obscene amount of currency. Apparently they stole it from the people who killed my team." He glanced somewhere offscreen. "Listen, sis... get here quick, I'm not sure how long we're going to last."

Fara sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm going to try to get this damn clunker over there as fast as I can, Matt. We're going in, just... hold out, bro." Fara reached over and punched a button next to the hyperline terminal, sending a dull chime ringing throughout the PA system... a signal that Falco and Katt needed to get to the galley, pronto.

Matt grit his teeth, nodding at her. At that time, a shout from off screen caused him to react, drawing some sort of strange blaster pistol from his jumpsuit. "Damn it! They're coming, Fara! Just get here as soon as you can!" Fara heard some sort of rattling weapons fire as the screen blanked out, their connection cut.

At the same time, Katt wandered into the galley, followed closely by Falco. As was customary before a potential job, Falco glanced to Fara, who didn't bother to disguise her distraught expression. "Hey, boss. Did we just get passed up on a mission, or are we going to earn some money kicking tail?"

Fara shook her head, tears starting to soak into the fur on her cheeks. "No... Matt just rung us. His unit has been attacked by what he thinks is a team of Venom troops... he's the only one left. I'm giving Pepper a call, and then I'm getting this piece of crap rustbucket to Sauria fast as we can. We need to get him off that rock."

Katt blinked, running a paw through her headfur. "Okay, Fara. You make the call to Pepper and I'll get the _Moonlighter_ under way. Falco, start getting the Arwings operational. Full loadout and all, you know the drill.

Falco nodded. He was usually joking and a bit cocky during a job, but he knew that Fara was going to stop at nothing to save her brother. He didn't know Matt very well, but he knew that he could hold his own, at least until they got there. "Alright, Katt. Sticking me with the boring work is just fine with me... as long as I get to tag some Venomites once we get there.

Fara glanced to the two, a slight curtain of anger drawing over her mind as she looked at them. "Once we get there, we're going to give those Andross-loving freaks a surprise they're not likely to forget. If they lay one scaly hand on my brother, I'm going to make sure we wipe every damn one of them off that planet. Now, get going... we're headed into battle."

Ron and Sergey spotted them as they boiled out of another stairwell, nearly one hundred yards off. A score of lizard-like creatures were heading right for them, growling and hissing. To the two seasoned mercs, they looked a lot like pint-sized versions of the invisible, brutish creature that nearly killed them back in the palace, armed only with spears, clubs, and rudimentary shields. Ron turned back to the ship, shouting a warning to their new ally. "Heads up, Matt! We've got incoming, so make it quick!"

Sergey didn't waste any time in talking, simply shouldering his G36 and glancing through its optical sight. The rifle roared as he fires several times, each 5.56mm round finding its mark and tearing through a creature, sending dead and wounded lizards to the ground. Several stopped and hefted wooden shields for cover, but the former Spetsnaz commando's fire simply punched through their attempt to ward off his shooting. After a few more went down, they got the hint and started to run for cover.

Ron took a few potshots at the scattered lizards, but his AKSU simply didn't have the accuracy Sergey's rifle had. However, he caught one before it ducked behind some sort of stone barrier, sending it sprawling to the dirt. "Hah, just like fish in a barrel, mate!" The Brit grinned, spotting another lizard running for cover. His AKSU cracked, the lizard tumbling to the stone floor to join its comrade.

Sergey grit his teeth, firing a few more shots at the now-entrenched survivors. "We are not out of the woods yet, Ron! They may be a diversion, so look sharp!" The Russian settled down behind his rifle, taking a few more shots at the lizards, although a flash of metal caught his eye through the driving rain... a flash of light and another figure taking cover. "Shit! Down!" Sergey ducked behind the wing of the downed spacecraft as a dull boom echoed across the palace roof, the plink and whine of a richochet sending both mercs rush for cover.

Matt poked his head out from the hatch of the craft, looking around the roof but seeing nothing. Quickly ducking back into the shelter of the craft, another shot echoed out and one of the dead terminals across from him shuddered with the abuse of a hole being punched through its casing. "Crap! What the hell's going on?"

Ron had ducked behind one of the shuttle's landing gear, glancing toward the group of lizards. "God-damned bloody sniper!" As a desperate measure, he switched the AKSU over to full auto and poked it out from beside the landing gear. The stubby weapon chattered its song of death, sending the remainder of its magazine downrange. Ron barely had time to react before he was flat on the ground, a numb, warm feeling spreading through his right forearm. As he looked down he saw a neat, red hole inches below his wrist... right before the pain set in. "I'm hit!"

Sergey sighed, readying his rifle and prepared to defend his field of fire. However, a voice called out from the pack of lizards and one sniper. "Not bad for a few thieving mercenaries!" The voice carried a thick accent, and the condescending tone behind it meant only one person... Sazbo.

"You four have made it this far, but we have chased you down!" the voice continued, anger filling the words in as their former employer spoke. "You have killed six of my top men, and marooned us all on this shitty planet, not to mention stole five million euro from my numbered account! By all means I should kill all of you, but I am feeling generous!"

Sergey called out in response to Sazbo. "Oh, so you'll leave the money on our bodies when you kill us? That is generous, Nikolai! I should have followed my first instinct and called a few of my GRU friends to give you a warm welcome before we plundered you!"

"I wouldn't doubt you would have, Borodin!" Sazbo growled. "Yet, right now we all are on this shitty alien planet, but since I have all of you under the sights of my rifle, you might want to listen closely. I'll take my money back, but if you're willing to help me... I might be willing to let all of you live!"

Sergey took a deep breath, considering his options. He had no reason to trust Sazbo keeping his word, but at the same time he knew that all of them together stood a better chance at getting out of their situation. "Alright, Sazbo. I'm laying down my weapon and coming out!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Old Soldiers.

The angular, fearsome profile of the_ Great Fox_ had suffered through age and neglect. The massive dreadnought, nearly the equal of any Cornerian battle cruiser, had come under hard times. Once shining hull plates had become dulled with age and marred with micrometeor impacts, as well as carbon scoring from a few close battles long ago. However, anyone looking at the ship would have been wary; the _Great Fox_ still had teeth, and many of them.

Rock music blared throughout the bridge, courtesy of an old jukebox bolted down to the corner. The resident mechanic, Slippy Toad, somehow managed to get a hold of the old laser platter-fed music machine and install it on board, much to Peppy Hare's dismay.

The aging rabbit sighed as he sat at the comm station, his eyes looking out over the dark void of space in front of them. He wasn't getting any younger, and in his mid-forties he was thinking about retirement. The fact that Slippy's tunes were actually starting to hurt now-sensitive ears seemed to reiterate the point that most folks his age were settling down, rather than directing a small mercenary force in eliminating the last vestiges of Andross' fleet. Still, the music drew the better part of Peppy's ire, and he responded with a sharp comment to the offending toad. "Will you turn that racket down! I'm trying to think, here!"

The comment drew a sheepish look from Slippy, who had been scanning a portion of video screens next to the jukebox. A quick smack with the palm of his hand shut the jukebox up. "Sorry, Peppy... it's my favorite song!" he squeaked, before turning back to the displays.

"Could you listen to something a little less painful, Slip?" Peppy didn't wait for a response before turning back to the keyboard in front of him. The hare was having a busy day for once, his eyes glued to the Infonet channels. Whispers of Venom activity near the edges of the system had most of the major news outlets speculating over their veracity for several hours now; Peppy was watching some of the talking heads discuss whether or not Venom could actually field a fleet strong enough to be a threat to the system.

The news wasn't what held Peppy's interest, who was experienced enough to read between the lines. He was willing to bet his savings account on the fact that something was going on. And, when something was going on that involved Venom... Star Fox would be fielding a call from General Pepper. However, the _Great Fox_ was being its usual ornery self. The converted dreadnought suffered the usual abuse a mercenary team gave it, as well as the fact a crew of four wasn't very effective at maintaining such a large ship. Once-new components were now beginning to show their age, and things started going wonky. Their Hyperline terminal had been out for almost a week, and while Peppy kept his nose to the grindstone with finding work, Fox, Slippy, and ROB had been trying to cobble the communication device back together.

A tinny voice echoed through the speaker next to Slippy, who had gone back to scanning the video screens. "Moved the dish to Arc 342, Line 184. Any reception at all yet, Slippy?" Peppy didn't envy Fox one bit right now. Since Slippy was the only one who knew the inner workings of Hyperline systems and he was busy keeping an eye on the Infonet, Fox was the one who had to go out on the hull and manually aim the Hyperline dish. As much as they loved being in the vast freedom of outer space, climbing into a space suit and getting your paws dirty on the outer hull wasn't a job anyone liked.

Slippy took a quick glance at the screen. "We're in luck, Fox! We've got a faint signal, but I think I can tune it enough to get it working!" Immediately, the _Great Fox's _technical wizard began punching selectionss on the touchscreen, which soon blanked out to the familiar Hyperline logo. "Alright, Fox. We've got a connection. Get back inside so we can test this thing!"

A relieved sigh echoed over the speakers. "You don't have to tell me twice, Slippy. I'm dying to get out of this cramped thing." Fox cut the connection by punching one of the buttons on the space suit's arm-mounted computer and sighed again; the sound of his breath amplified in his ears. The vast expanse of space stretched out before him as his magnetic boots held him tightly to the hull of the _Great Fox_. He took a moment to glance down at the now-repaired Hyperline dish, its metallic frame almost imperceptibly moving to Slippy's command. At least the dish was one less repair the ship needed, and hopefully the last time he had to trudge out on the hull in a suit for a good while. Giving the dish a final nod of approval, he moved toward the main airlock as fast as the magnetic boots he wore would take him.

Like most others, Fox McCloud hated wearing a space suit. Its protective nature meant that the space inside was cramped, and the thick layers of fabric, electronics, and heating coils made even the most mundane tasks a challenge. Along with that, spacewalking was a hazardous venture; many had lost their lives due to an improperly secured teather or a tool puncturing their suit. The thought made Fox shudder as he finally reached the airlock. The controls were simple; a green light blinked at him, signaling that the airlock was open vacuum. A large pressure pad underneath the light opened the doors, which slid aside as he brushed it. With another sigh of relief, Fox clambered into the airlock and pushed another pressure pad set just inside the airlock. The doors closed silently, and a series of indicator lights lit up.

The silence of space gave way to noise as the room flooded with air, starting as a soft hiss and escalating to a full-scale roar. After a moment the lights turned off and a chime happily rung. Fox grinned, his paws unlatching the suit's helmet and pulling it off, happily smelling the ship's recycled air rather than the stale, metallic tang of the spacesuit's life support. The inner doors opened for him and he strode into the ready room.

Several empty spacesuits lined the wall, all kept up to Cornerian Regulation Agency specifications for readiness. Even though the _Great Fox_ was crewed only by Fox, Peppy, and Slippy, the ready room was outfitted for a full work crew; fifteen space suits lined the walls and several toolkits were attached to the floor. However, all of this was ignored by the young vulpine as he crossed over to the only empty station and unlatched himself out of his suit.

Free of the cramped spacesuit, Fox stretched a bit before walking out into the ship's main corridor, which ran straight to the bridge. The crew of the _Great Fox_ definitely got their workout by simply running around the ship; Fox figured the walk from the airlock to the bridge was nearly one hundred fifty meters. Within a moment Fox was striding through the open door to the bridge.

The place was in an expected amount of disorder; the three practically lived on the bridge. Movie posters and pinup centerfolds littered once-bare walls, and empty meal trays were neatly stacked next to the door. The bridge was laid out in a very similar manner to the old _Peregrine_ cruisers. A line of screens and terminals surrounded a slightly raised walkway at the rear of the bridge; ROB, the ship's resident robotic assistant, was currently moving from terminal to terminal, keeping vigilant watch over the _Great Fox's_ critical systems. Just in front of the walkway was Fox's usual station, the captain's chair. The chair was equipped with a newer MBS notebook computer slaved to the navigation and combat control suites, and also included the usual connection to the InfoNet, which was thankfully still working. Without a word, Fox slid into this chair and looked around the bridge.

Peppy was at the station near one of the large viewport windows, busy pecking away at the keyboard. He never gave up the hunt for more work, but his determination to keep Star Fox gainfully employed had awarded them a few contracts in recent memory. Even the Venom Empire seemed peaceful these days, even though Fox knew that Andrew Oikonny was still in charge of that particular band of terrorists. Sometimes the Cornerian Rangers hired them as a primary assault force on some of their larger holdings, but those contracts were unfortunately few and far in-between.

Slippy's station was directly across the bridge from Peppy, and he was busy making the final tweaks to the Hyperline system. "Just about done, Fox." Slippy sputtered as he hit a few more commands on the terminal. "And, it's up!"

Fox nodded at Slippy before turning towards the bolted down laptop at his seat. The MBS operating system was running as usual, with a small window displaying several critical readouts on the _Great Fox's _sitting in the lower right corner. The Hyperline terminal readout flashed a green light at him; the first time he had seen that particular indicator working in several days. He then focused his attention on the desktop image, a smile appearing on his features as a few old memories of better days came to him.

The image was an old photo of the team taken a couple of years after the defeat of Andross, taken at a picnic table in Grand Park. The scenery of mountains in the background framed the image perfectly as the team sat around the table, swapping stories and jokes. Peppy sat to one side, laughing at a joke Falco had blurted out. Slippy stood off to the other side, trying to get his new portable music system working; Fox recalled he hadn't been able to get that working quite right. Fox himself sat at the table facing the camera, while Fara had his arms wrapped around his shoulders, smirking at Falco.

Fox wondered how they were doing, and not for the first time that day. Falco had left about a year after the picture had been taken; the avian had never liked staying idle and the lack of action after defeating Venom had caused him to quit and look for more adventure. The last time Fox heard from him was about two years ago, saying he was going to join another mercenary team that was trying to clean up the Outlands.

Fara was a little more complicated of an issue for Fox. Things had been going well between then for so long, but the thought of seeing someone he loved get hurt or killed in combat mortified him. Still, Fox had to uphold his duty as a mercenary, and becoming a teacher at the Academy wasn't something he relished. The only thing he thought he could do was break off their engagement, at least until he could make one big final score and settle down with her. Those dreams had been dashed several years ago, and even with a decent mission every few months or so, Star Fox was struggling to make much of a profit. For all it was worth, Fara was probably making a decent living on Corneria as a test pilot or possibly a partner in her father's company right now, and that was all...

"You okay, Fox?" Peppy's voice broke off Fox's train of thought. He turned to look at his old mentor... at least Peppy, Slippy and ROB were still around. "You seem a little beat... are you sure that spacewalk didn't tire you out?"

Peppy had a point; Fox had been out on the hull for almost three hours. Resetting the Hyperline dish had turned into a major chore, and Cornerian regulations actually set a time limit on construction spacewalks for two hour shifts with an half-hour break in between. He was tired, but he wasn't about to miss out on any new contract that might come in, if he was lucky. "Yeah... yeah. I'll be fine, Peppy. I was just lost in thought."

Slippy turned toward Fox, motioning to the screen. "Fox! I think we've got an incoming call. The message is a bit garbled, but it's coming from..." The toad scanned the screen, looking for further details. "It's from General Pepper, Fox!"

Fox did his best to hide a growing grin. They hadn't had a job from Pepper in nearly three years. While Pepper usually reserved the team for extremely dangerous assignments, he was generous with his pay. Along with that, the Cornerian government was a very stable employer, and there was no risk of getting cut short or 'docked' for some imagined infraction of their terms of engagement. "Put him on the holo, Slippy."

The holographic projector fitted into the bridge's ceiling came to life, a multicolor lightshow sparking to life in the middle of the bridge before flickering into the shape of the portly old general. Pepper was showing his age, and over the past two years or so had been making noises about retirement. Sill, if it was one last chance for a decent score, Star Fox would be set for a while.

"General Pepper here... how are you doing, Star Fox?" Pepper's greeting hadn't changed a bit over the years... he was friendly and a little informal, but Fox liked the familiarity. Pepper also looked like he had a lot on his mind, but Fox knew better than to question that.

"We're doing fine, Pepper. A little slow over the past few months, but we've been using the downtime to fix a few things on the _Great Fox._" Fox paused a moment, nodding at Pepper. "How's military life treating you, sir?"

Pepper chucked, a deep and good-natured laugh coming from the old hound. His holographic form waved and nodded at Fox. "Just fine, although I think I might put in within a few years. But, enough of that... I have an important mission for you."

Fox's ears perked, but he hit his excitement beyond that. Truth be told, they hadn't had any sort of steady work for a while, and a mission from Pepper would pad their bank accounts as well as provide some serious equipment upgrades. "What kind of mission, Pepper? Venom starting to act up again?"

"We're not sure, Fox." Pepper shook his head. "Have you ever heard of a planet called Sauria?" When Fox shook his head(after Peppy and Slippy exchanged blank looks), Pepper continued. "It's an ancient world on the edge of the Lylat system.. there are a few uncharted planets left, it seems.We sent a communications team to Sauria a few months ago to establish an outpost and to open diplomatic relations with the local tribes there."

Fox seemed puzzled, but he nodded at Pepper. "Did something happen to this team, or is there civil unrest on the planet?" He wasn't sure what they could do; at the moment he was Star Fox's only pilot. Both Slippy and Peppy had Arwings, but Peppy was in charge of navigating the _Great Fox_ while Fox was away, and Slippy had his hands full with keeping the ship in one piece.

"Unfortunately both, Fox." Pepper looked grim. Fox knew right then it wasn't good. "The team started making reports that one of the tribes started attacking the others, conquering them. From what the reports say, there are several devices hidden deep within the planet, holding it together. They have been removed, and the planet is starting to break apart."

Fox glanced up to see an image that was sent to them. The planet they saw was fairly small; composed of one continent. However, several large pieces were floating in orbit, surrounded by a cloud of smaller chunks around the planet itself. This was a little unnerving, but he could see why they needed a good pilot; most Academy floozies wouldn't make it through that kind of flight. "Is this some sort of rescue, then?"

Pepper shook his head. "Not exactly, Fox. Unknown forces stormed the base of operations the comm team had set up and killed all but one of them. We're not even sure if the survivor is alive. If he is, then yes... get him out of there. But, your first priority is to recover the devices keeping the planet together and return them. If Sauria blows apart... well," Pepper spread his paws in a explosive gesture, "Lylat may very well be pounded by asteroids and space rock... let alone the innocent beings that will die if we don't help."

Fox nodded, glancing over to Peppy and Slippy. Slippy was studying data Pepper had sent over, but Peppy was standing up, about to ask Pepper a question. "Pepper?" The General nodded. "Are you sure that Venom isn't behind this, somehow? I've been hearing a lot of media speculation about Venom building up their fleet for a possible attack in the system." Peppy scratched his chin, studying Pepper intensely.

Pepper sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. "What I'm about to tell you isn't directly linked to your mission, and is extremely classified information. I know all of you have the proper clearances, but I'm really not supposed to tell you anything about these events." Pepper reached for a switch offscreen, and his visage was replaced with a rotating model of a large cruiser. For comparison, a model of the _Great Fox_ rotated beneath it, dwarfed by the larger craft.

Fix's eyes widened as he glanced at the ship. "What is that thing, Pepper?" The craft was huge and menacing, the technical readouts popping onto his laptop indicating it outclassed any single ship in the Cornerian fleet. The _Great Fox_ wouldn't be enough to take it, even with its upgraded phased laser cannons and all of them flying support with their Arwings.

"That is an unknown supercruiser we have spotted operating in the Fortanas system." Fox had heard about the area; a mostly unexplored system a little over two months away at slipspace speeds. He had heard rumors there was a habitable planet there, but the trip was dangerous and nobody he knew personally had even attempted to reach it. "There were no visible markings on the ship, but as you can see the design is very similar to the _Scythe_-class heavy cruiser. The survey craft that spotted it was almost destroyed trying to escape; it made it back to Cornerian-held space only a week ago."

The rotating model disappeared, fading into a montage of images taken with the survey craft's projector camera. The ship was poised over a large, blue planet, its banks of PLC's delivering devastating salvos onto the planet's surface. The high resolution of the images told the tale of the craft's rampage, several burning areas on the planet left behind as it concentrated its fire onto the dark side of the planet. Fox's jaw dropped as he noticed clusters of lights on the surface... the planet _was_ home to a sentient species. "What... what happened?" he blurted out.

Pepper's image returned, replacing the destruction. "The planet isn't on the charts as we have never made formal contact, like we were attempting on Sauria. However, we found a few records from trading ships that had made successful visits to Cerinia, as it was called by its inhabitants. We are in the process of sending out two cruisers to investigate, but we fully expect the planet to be slagged and the ship to be long gone."

Peppy glanced up to Pepper, his ears perking as he listened. "So, that planet actually existed, and this new supercruiser destroyed it? Plus, if Venom actually constructed this behemoth in secret, we might have a big problem on our paws if they decide to bring it out into the open."

"Exactly, old friend. Venom has their paws into something, but we have no idea what it might be. I doubt this will have any bearing on your mission, but be careful. Being on the outskirts of the Lylat system means getting formal military support may take a few days at the least."

Slippy finally spoke up, spotting something in the documents he was going over. "It says here that another mercenary team is on its way to Sauria? What's that about?" He tapped his touchscreen and the information popped up on Fox's laptop.

Pepper nodded, yet Fox saw a hint of a wince on the hound's features. That was strange, and he could tell Pepper was holding something back. "The surviving communications team member has a family member that works as a merc; this is how we know about the attack in the first place. They are on their way to try and rescue the team member, and have been told to expect no... assistance from your team." Fox glanced over to Peppy with a questioning look on his face. Peppy nodded, understanding what Fox was trying to get across.

"By the way, your usual fee has been requested and approved. As a bonus, I've managed to call in a few small favors at Matchpoint. Once you're finished, the _Great Fox_ will receive a complete refit, which it is long overdue, I can see." Pepper smiled and waved around what he could see of the bridge.

All three mercs grinned at that news. Their pay would have afforded a refit with some left over... they had been planning on upgrading to the more modern Arwing SX fighters with the rest of the money. If there were any dregs left, perhaps a decent vacation. The news that they were going to receive a free refit was a huge boost to their spirits. "Well, we'll take the job, Pepper. We'll set course for Sauria immediately."

Pepper smiled and nodded. "It's good to see you back in action, Star Fox. If Venom is in fact behind all this, it might lead us to the supercruiser. Keep your ears open and remain alert. I'll keep my line open in case you have any questions. I've also forwarded information on the local language... hopefully Slippy can get a working translator up in time."

As he continued to go over the information on his screen, Slippy tossed back a reply. "It should take me just a couple of days. This seems easy enough to take care of." While Slippy wasn't the best of pilots(although he could hold his own), he was an excellent mechanic and technical guru. A translator device wouldn't be too hard for him.

Fox nodded at Slippy, then returned his attention to Pepper. "Looks like Sauria is two days out, sir. We'll get there as soon as we can, and we'll take care of this mess. Thanks for counting on us, Pepper." Fox nodded at him, a sense of relief coming over him. They would be fit and well-rested after this one, he was sure of it.

The _Great Fox_ cruised on through space, its engines warming up for the jump into slipspace. As the ship's computer ran through diagnostics the slipspace generators fired, sending the dreadnought forward towards the stricken planet.

Nikolai Sazbo glanced around the crudely-made room, noting that its appearance made it little better than the banks of prison cells which surrounded it. The tan stucco-like material which made up its construction practically spelled out despair, yet its furnishings consisted solely of a wooden chair and table. Even the furniture looked dreary; its finish uneven and discolored with several dark splotches. The fact that a wooden door in similar shape barred any escape from the room rather than a set of iron bars transformed it into a sort of office.

The Serbian was alone in the office, waiting for his vulpine boss. Just the mere fact he was working for someone else riled him, let alone understanding that it was an alien holding their only way home in his hands. So far, the chase for his elusive fox girl had come up empty... for him. However, the fact that they captured two of the foreign mercenaries and retrieved their five million euro brought a smile to his lips.

As he glanced around he ran a hand through the prickly stubble on his chin, which turned his smile into a scowl. The Italian suit he was wearing was stained with sweat and spatters of blood, and while it was comfortable for a business ensemble it was far from being a set of combat fatigues. The suit would be ruined by the time they got home, but the satisfaction of killing or stranding his enemies here would more than make it worth it. He would promise them some hope of returning home, certainly... but he had made his mind up the mercenaries would never see Earth again.

Sazbo was shaken from his musings by the door creaking open. Turning around, he glanced at the blue fox that entered the room, an impassive expression settling on his features. Meran regarded him with a shake of his head as he made his way towards the desk. "A pity that the other Cerinian escaped Krazoa Palace before you could kill her." The vulpine motioned toward Sazbo. "Yet, you managed to murder a Cornerian intelligence team before they warned their military about what was happening here."

Sazbo shook his head, his ice-blue eyes boring into Meran's steel gray gaze. "Yes, we killed them. We also captured one of them, as well as two of the men we were chasing. As a bonus, we retrieved our money. However..."

Meran interrupted Sazbo with a wave of his hand. "However you are angry at the fact you still haven't found and killed the Cerinian girl that will prove to be your ticket home. You also think that she is some sort of ploy to keep you doing my bidding until I have no further use of you." He chuckled as Sazbo's eyes narrowed, watching the human's fists clench slightly. "You cannot fool a mindreader for long, Nikolai Sazbo. I also sense that you wonder why I need you to do this... now that Scales is temporarily out of our fur, I guess I could fill you in if it makes you more... cooperative."

Sazbo gave a curt nod towards the enigmatic fox creature. "You literally have a captive audience, I'm afraid." As the Serbian narrowed his eyebrows, he motioned around the room. "All of this seems to be some sort of ploy, as if you're trying to stab your lizard ally in the back. Am I right?"

The Cerinian nodded, an expression of approval given to the human. "You are partly correct. I am working against Scales... not to destroy the planet as he wishes, but to rule it." Meran leaned back in the crudely-built chair, gazing at the gunrunner as he continued. "About eight years ago, all known space was at war. Two sides were involved, planets named Corneria and Venom."

Sazbo nodded, his mind recalling the ambush of the other cartoon-like creatures inside their 'Palace.' They had been unarmed and completely taken by surprise, and the mention of their origin wasn't lost by him. "The ones we killed were part of one side's intelligence bureau, correct?"

Meran grinned. "You are sharper than you look." He could read the Serbian as if he were an open book, but responding to humans without apparent mindreading usually made them far more cooperative. "They were the winning side in the war, almost completely destroying Venom in the process. Their leader, someone named Andross, perished in the final battle."

Sazbo digested the information, but he still wasn't sure where Meran was going with this. A war and a dead head of state didn't seem relevant to his contract to hit the other fox. "So, some leader was killed in a war you don't seem to even be part of. I fail to see what this should mean to us."

The fox shook his head, waving a paw to hush the gunrunner. "Andross' spirit is still around. Apparently, he managed to develop the technological means to keep his spirit on a physical plane, more or less. Yet, to maintain that state, one must have an immense amount of magical energy. Only two planets in known space have that sort of power, Sazbo."

Sazbo smirked. "So, your mysterious dead leader managed to keep his spirit 'alive?' And, let me guess... this is the planet he chose to hang his ghostly hat on, am I right?" Sarcasm practically dripped from the human's mouth, and Meran could sense a severe feeling of doubt from the human.

"Since you are not versed in the supernatural, appearing to view such things as spirits and telepaths as childrens' tales, yes... it would prove a little hard for you to grasp." Meran fixed Sazbo in his gaze, a smirk growing at the corners of his muzzle. You have much to learn, and so little time in which to learn it."

Sazbo scoffed at the fox, narrowing his eyebrows at the Cerinian. "So, the walking, talking blue fox wishes to teach me about fairy stories?" A short laugh exited his lips. "What is next, may I ask? Should I stock up on garlic and wooden stakes to drive off vampires?"

Meran huffed, sighing at the human. "I will not force you to change your opinion. However, in order to survive here, you might want to let your pride go unfed for some time... it will end up being your downfall, as I believe you nearly experienced right before you arrived here." Sazbo started to speak, but Meran hushed him with a wave of his paw. "You wanted to know why killing this girl is important, and now I will tell you."

"To resurrect Andross, they need a channeler. Someone who has latent telepathic abilities would do nicely." Meran paused a moment, one of Sazbo's unfiltered thoughts coming to him. "No, they cannot use me. They know that I have the ability to smash Andross' spirit from this plane of existence forever, and they won't take that sort of risk. Also, the process they intend to use is inevitably fatal for the channeler, which is something I prefer to avoid for obvious reasons."

Sazbo scratched his chin once more, nodding to the fox. "So, they want your little friend captured and used as a channel. You obviously do not want this to happen, in order to you to rule the planet yourself. Ambitious, yes.. or revenge?"

Meran smirked... the human could get to the point if he was clued-in enough, at least. That would prove useful. "More revenge than ambition, but there are things you do not need to know about that... lest you try to tell Scales about our little deal. Rest assured he will kill you if he had an inkling what was going on... and if he didn't, you will have a very long spacewalk back to Earth."

Sazbo nodded, his broad shoulders rising in a shrug. "As you know, you hold the cards. A little information would be nice to have so we can go about the task of killing her. If you'll excuse me, I must return to my comrades... point us and pull the trigger when you must, fox." With a huff, Sazbo pushed the door open and stormed off.

Meran sat in silence for a moment, smirking to himself. Little did the human know that there had been another participant in their conversation. A sliding panel at the back of the room opened and a figure emerged from behind the Cerinian. The figure spoke in a gravelly voice. "I think you might be right. That rank amateur might be more useful than cannon fodder, as long as he stays in the dark... and out of our way."

The fox nodded without bothering to look behind him. "That might be true. As long as he sees them as my errand runners, he might overlook you enough to ensure a fatal mistake for him... and for his bedfellows." Meran held up a paw to stop the figure from speaking. "But... you need to keep your forces well in the dark for anything to work. If that foolish oaf Scales gets any idea that I'm planning this; any thoughts of me betraying him into his thick head... then we all will die."

"That I'm well aware of, Meran. We have remained hidden, but the Major isn't liking the idea of sitting on our asses and doing nothing. I don't need to mention he's also a little angry that you have turned to... outside agents such as these mercenaries and gunrunners." The figure remained still, awaiting a response.

"Bringing your forces here was, and I will say this again, an extremely taxing process. Your Major was well aware of the risks, and was also well aware that there would be... residual waves with such a teleportation process. Securing that new base of operations for you was even more difficult... one false thought and I would have been killed." Meran's ear twitched in annoyance. "You can tell the Major that he will need to stay patient, and he will need to stay patient until I, and I alone, make the decision."

"We're not going to be able to stay a secret forever, and you damn well know it. He highly advises you to take action soon. Destroying their communications array while their watchdog is out of the picture will give us enough time to establish an effective defense... we aren't known for screwing up." The mysterious one leaned forward just a touch.

"You screwed up well enough on Cerinia, let me remind you. All the Channelers were supposed to have been taken care of, and yet at least one escaped. I will also remind you that your Major was almost killed when he foolishly underestimated a Staff. A human looks very strange with a face comprised of scar tissue." Meran kept his voice low, but his reprimanding tone was heard clearly. "You will get back to your team, and you will tell them to wait. It will not be long if things go according to plan... if your Major moves forward without my blessing... I will damn him to a part of the Void so deep that even Karnos knows nothing of it." Meran sighed and motioned to the door. "You are dismissed... Lieutenant Hilman."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Notes: Well, chapter 13... wooo. Hehe. Admittedly it's been a long ride thus far, and I'd like to thank ya guys, the readers who have stuck through a series of writers blocks, a couple of lackluster chapters, and other various garbage... heh. I'm not stopping here; more definitely is coming. Personal issues have kept me from the keyboard, but I managed to dust off my old copy of _Adventures_ and play through a little to give some authenticity to the next few chapters.**

** The next few are going to be heavily centered on Brian and Krystal, mostly due to the fact I haven't really gotten very 'far' with their end of the story. I'm not trying to focus on an altered novelization of _Adventures_, but since the plot of the original game is what this story is based on, I'm going to at least roughly follow it. There's going to be a whole lot more action leading from here on out, and a good deal more character development.**

**However, I would like to hear from you to gauge how folks are liking the direction of things. I feel as if I'm moving very slowly and should consider bumping up the pacing a notch or two, which might end up happening. As always, suggestions from readers are more than welcome, as long as they are not spam or flames, but that's another rant entirely(however if you really want to hear me rant on spamming/flaming on here, let me know, I will put that in the next chapter :P ). So, in short... send me some feedback... really. I at least consider everything I've received in a PM or a review thus far... yes, even _that_, but let's just say I don't have a definitive answer to _that_ question as of yet. So... drop me a line, really!**

Chapter 13: On Whose Payroll?

The last figments of a dream rushed through Brian's head, his mind trying to grasp at the straws of what his unconscious mind had been working on... straws that suddenly blew away to nothing. In a split instant, he had totally forgotten what he had been dreaming about, and his sleep-blurred eyes blinked open.

The young merc had been used to crashing out on a couch during high school and college, and in his days in the Corps and as a soldier of fortune he had slept on far worse. Still, there was nothing like waking up on a couch, something that reminded him of the sleepovers where he and his friends would stay up half the night playing video games. His mind wandered back then... ten years ago it had been a hell of a lot simpler. However, even with a slightly overactive imagination, he would have never imagined himself in this situation.

Yet, here he was. He had a job to do, and the stakes were high. He would be damned, but the whole situation seemed like one of those videogames he had stayed up all night playing when he was younger. Saving a damn planet... that was rich. Idly, he wondered what kind of rate he would charge for what he was about to do. "Certainly more than what GRU paid us to take on those rebels." the merc muttered. "However, that almost made my retirement account right there." Musing on that particular old job, he stood up and took a glance at his watch.

The old Timex he wore was one of the last bastions of his high school days. The watch itself was beat up, the face scratched in several places by various rocks and debris he had encountered the world over. The old timepiece was as much a part of him as the arm it was attached to, and now it had an alien world to notch on its old leather band. The illuminated hands of the watch told him it was just after eight in the evening... or it would have been had he still been in Europe. "Going to have one horrid damn case of jet lag once it catches up with me." He sighed and glanced around. The interior of the spaceship seemed quiet and lifeless, just like another unfamiliar hotel room in a foreign country.

Out of force of habit, he slid his Glock out of its shoulder holster, pulling the weapon's slide back to confirm there was a round in the chamber. Brian had always called himself a paranoid son of a bitch, and that attitude had saved his life on several occasions. The lines of work he had found himself in after dropping out of college were about as dangerous as one could get, and he had seen several friends killed before his eyes.

That thought brought memories of Jakob to mind. The pragmatic German had a penchant for being the calming voice of reason on the team, and Brian would have given anything to have his friend by his side. "Christ, man." Brian growled to himself. "How am I supposed to get through this? I've got the survival instinct, but other than a nutty alien fox I'm alone here. I can't even honor your memory right, dammit." Brian sighed as he stood up, looking towards the one door he hadn't been through yet, the one that he assumed led to the kitchen.

The former Marine's assumption turned out to be right, although he was faced with the damnedest kitchen he'd ever seen. The facilities were much different than what he was used to, sleek and obsidian in color. The controls were comprised of touchpads inset into the devices, strangely labeled in English. However, the kitchen was not without its personal touch, although the decor seemed more at home in some Hawaiian beach house than among the futuristic equipment he was inspecting. Most prominently featured was a large wall hanging which looked much like an oil painting, featuring a landscape that wasn't quite as alien as he expected.

The trees looked different, most of them having teal or blue leaves; the grass was even colored a sea green. A building was prominently featured off to one side, made of dark gray stone and highly polished wood. The house stood three stories high, and reminded Brian of an old viking longhouse he once saw on TV. The artist's signature was displayed on the upper left corner, written in a script he couldn't make out.

Brian turned away from the decor to search the appliances. He quickly figured out what was what, mainly due to the English text upon the devices themselves.There seemed to be some sort of oven, a fridge, and some sort of combination dishwasher and trash compactor lined up in a row. Opening the fridge revealed several chunks of meat wrapped up in what looked like wax paper, complete with strands of twine; something which seemed extremely old-fashioned to him. Next to the steaks sat several large pieces of fruit. Those looked somewhat like grapefruit, but he could tell they weren't anything out of an Earth garden, at least.

Closing the fridge, Brian decided to check out the cabinets set above the appliances. Most of them held cookware, but the last one held his jackpot. Among several loaves of what looked like pumpernickel bread, he spotted a few containers that looked like wine bottles. He couldn't read the labels, but considering they were mixed in with food he could recognize, the merc was going on the assumption they weren't dangerous.

Taking a glance at the delicately-scrawled text on the bottles, he noticed that the script on the bottles matched that on the painting. Apparently, this 'Lylat' language wasn't Krystal's native tongue, but somehow she spoke it fluently... and even stranger; it was identical to English.

Figuring out how to open the bottle took a few moments and the use of the small multitool Brian always kept in his pants pocket. The bottle was sealed with a strange style of cork, and when he couldn't figure out how to manipulate it he simply used the multitool's corkscrew. With a smile he held his prize, before glancing up to the ceiling.

"Well, here's to you, Jakob. Best damn teammate a merc could have." Brian sighed as he lifted the bottle to his lips, the strange, sweet scent of the beverage carrying the expected sharpness of alcohol. "This isn't Tullamore Dew, but right now it'll do. _requiescat in pace, _man." Brian took a swig of the strange liquor, surprised at its sweet taste. Compared to the hard alcohol and beer he usually had on special occasions, this was light and, well, refreshing. With a sigh he took another swig, waiting for the effects of alcohol on an empty stomach to set in...

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_The hovercar stopped with a jerk as Haran stomped on the brake pedal. Yitana and Krystal were in the seat behind him, watching as the cascade of rockets and energy beams fell upon the skyline of Cassat, the city which had been the Haleth clan's home for generations. They had stopped at the field that housed the largest collection of spacecraft on Cerinia; mostly small pleasure shuttles bought from the odd wandering merchant from the Lylat system. The shuttles were used mainly as orbital transport across the planet; with most Cerinians relegated to walking or sailing to reach their destination the status of having a spacecraft was reserved for the elite and members of the Great Council._

_Their hovercar was soon joined by two others, the Salas and Krynne family crests emblazoned on their sides identifying the occupants within. As Haran stepped out of the car he was immediately greeted by Garet Krynne. As political rivals they maintained much professional distance between one another, but at the moment they were united in saving their families from the destruction wrought by unknown aggressors. "Haleth!" he exclaimed. "One familiar muzzle at least. Did Yitana and Krystal make it out with you?"_

_Haran nodded as he scanned the line of spacecraft around them. All in all there were seven craft sitting in front of them, their personal _Vucsed_ shuttle among them. He knew the ship was fueled, and all they needed to do was to get Krystal on it. "They did, to thank Melos. Are Fortinas and Jasal with you?" He knew Garet's wife and son by name, but the flash of pain he sensed from Garet spoke even before his words did._

_"No... Fortinas stayed behind to help with the evacuation. I know she's still alive, but getting Jasal to safety is priority." Garet sighed as the door opened once more, his son stepping out behind him. "Father, you know I'm old enough! I should be helping you coordinate the defenses!"_

_"Not now, Jasal! You know that if we fall, there must be representatives of the Council tribes to carry on after this disaster!" Garet grumbled as Jasal shook his head, but interupted his son before he had the chance to speak. "The Haleths stand united with us. You will go with their daughter and the Salas twins, to safety. There will be no argument!"_

_Jasal sighed as he saw the Haleth vixens exit the car. Surprisingly, the Salas family car remained still. He was not skilled in telepathy as the Haleths were, so he could not tell how they were faring. However, his question was answered as the older vixen approached their group._

_"Rulat is having trouble calming the twins. He will be just a moment." Yitana glanced over to the car as she settled a paw on Krystal's shoulder. "This will be a trial for us all, but Melos will guide our paws how He sees fit."_

_Krystal wrapped her arms around her mom in a brief hug before glancing around the group. "Wouldn't we stand a better chance by staying together? I completed the Ascension a few suns ago, and I heard Jasal completed his a few cycles ago! We can get through this if we stay together!"_

_Haran shook his head before grasping Krystal's paw. "No, Krystal. We know you two are into your Ascendancy, yet we need you to look after the twins. It is paramount that we remain united. We need to get you on the ship, quickly." As if to punctuate his statement, the distant rumble of explosions reached them. "Yitana, tell Rulat that he needs to hurry. Time is growing short." Haran pushed Krystal ahead, and the five Cerinians made their way towards the _Vucsed.

_As they neared the craft, Yitana's ears perked as if she heard something. "Quickly!" she hissed. "We are not alone here... I'm sensing several others ahead!" As if on cue, all of the Cerinians reached for their staves; the ancient weapons extending in their paws, ready to do battle or defense for their owners. Imbued with Guardian Spirits, each Grand Staff was a symbol of power as well as a weapon, and possessed both offensive and defensive capabilities. Once chosen by a Cerinian at the Test of Ascencion, the staves would not easily bond to another, yet others were able to use them on rare occasions. _

_Haran reached for the remote on his heavy belt, keying the signal to open the _Vucsed's_ cargo doors. The doors slid open and the ship's ramp extended as they approached. At the same time, they saw a distant flash of yellow-orange light up the night sky, a muffled _pop-whoosh_ accompanying the strange sight. Some heavy object shot past the group, and with a growing horror they realized what it was._

_The rocket slammed into the Salas family car with cold, unyielding force. The car exploded in a bright yellow fireball, and even Jasal felt the brief wash of pain and fear as they felt the spirits of Rulat and his twins tear away from their bodies. Krystal's jaw gaped as she saw the car explode, then the world turned to a view of the Void. Several armored figures rushed at them, all clad in black. The demonic, blank faces and bug eyes reminded her of some sort of insect people, but the strange-looking blaster rifles in their paws chilled her blood. She turned to fire off a blast of flame at the mysterious attackers, but their weapons spoke first, a soft, quiet chittering coming from their rifles._

_She saw her parents stagger to the cold grass, an icy grip of fear wrapped around her heart as she gripped her staff and saw the bug-beings coming at her. The weapons chittered again; this time they found their mark._

_Krystal felt pinpricks erupt in her chest as she tried to get out of the way, but her legs failed her. She tumbled to the ground as her parents did, the wind knocked out of her. She frantically tried to take a breath, but the knowledge that she was now drowning in her own blood caused her panicked mind to lash out, before she faded... _

Awake. With a gasping breath, Krystal sat upright, panting as if she had been saved from the horrible fate she had faced within her dream. Her paws reached out for her staff, which was no longer sitting next to her bed. With a soft whimper she crawled to the edge of the bed, trying to calm her shot nerves.

The dream had been the same almost every night, but this time it had been even more vivid. She still felt the residual pain of being shot through the chest, and even though she was breathing she still somewhat felt like she was drowning. The darkness of her room was stifling, and the notion that she needed out burned into her mind. The young Cerinian stumbled to the door to her room, opening it and stepping out to the dim light of the main living area.

Immediately she noticed that the couch Brian had been on was empty. This caused a slight wave of inexplicable panic to shoot through her, fraying her already already frazzled mental state. Krystal wasn't sure why she felt like this, but the nightmares surrounding her narrow escape from Cerinia would not go away.

Even though Brian was an alien and dead set on his own selfish agenda, he was the only one willing to accompany her through the mess on Sauria. Kyte, along with most of the dinosaurs even brave enough to offer passive resistance to Scales, were simply too afraid to take action against the Sharpclaw. Brian didn't have this fear, and from her earlier probings she could tell he was somewhat eager to take to a tangible fight.

For better or for worse, the human was the closest she had to a friend on Sauria, and seeing him gone was upsetting. Krystal crept forward, her eyes and sensitive ears on guard. The sound of clinking glass in the galley caught her attention, and she silently made her way towards the door.

She palmed the door, letting it slide open to reveal Brian standing next to one of the counters. He held one of the three bottles of Ranot which was stashed in her cupboard, glancing at her with a slightly glazed expression. The panic turned into a minor feeling of anger, but her abilities told her a different story... the human had some grieving of his own to do, and his mind wasn't blocking her nearly as much as it had before.

Brian didn't seem to be too surprised at Krystal's entrance. She stood there, hair disheveled and generally looking like a mess. All of the jewelry he had seen on her had been taken off, and she stood there dressed only in that loincloth and bikini top she had been in before. Yet, something about her seemed uneasy, and Brian usually had a problem with shutting up when drunk. "You look like hell." It was a matter of fact statement. "Can't get to sleep, either?"

The Cerinian sighed and padded her way over to the counter. "More like a nightmare. May... may I ask why you are drinking?" She noticed that the bottle was almost halfway gone. Ranot was a very expensive and potent beverage, and it surprised her that Brian didn't seem as affected as he should have been.

Brian glanced over at Krystal before taking another draught off the bottle in his hand. His closer inspection revealed that she looked rougher than his first impressions made her out to be. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was shaking a bit. The merc was no psychologist, but it didn't take one to realize that the nightmare she had woken up from wasn't something to sneeze at. However, she did ask him a question, and he answered it. "Tradition. Whenever a buddy falls in combat, it's a tradition we have. We have a drink to their memory." He tapped his free hand against the bottle before lifting it to his lips, attacking it again.

Krystal looked up at him, a peculiar expression crossing her muzzle. "You... get drunk to honor the memory of a friend who has joined the Beyond?" She scratched her ear, her tail swishing lightly as it was apt to do when she was thinking. "How... would that help?"

Brian glanced at the vixen, his expression and his thoughts making it clear to her that she was missing the whole point. "You've got a lot of stuff to learn, Krys." the former Marine sighed, reaching up into the cabinet and pulling down another bottle. Once again he fumbled with his multitool and opened it, setting the container on the counter next to her. "Now... take a drink."

Krystal looked down to the bottle or Ranot in front of her, then up to the human. "Drink?" Hesitantly, she wrapped a paw around the bottle and sniffed it. While not a sacred beverage like Kanoc, Ranot was still reserved for special occasions... there was also the fact that humans seemed much more tolerant of alcohol than Cerinians were.

Brian nodded, taking another swig off his bottle. He was definitely feeling the effects, but he could tell that the alien wine was high class stuff. "Yeah... just take a drink now, and we'll talk about it later. You're wound up over something, and I want to get it out before we start taking fire." He looked her over once more. "To be blunt about it, you look like you've had a very fuckin' rough go of it. Take a drink, loosen up, and you can tell me what happened." Well, he wasn't the best therapist in the world, but his time spent as an NCO taught him how to deal with overstressed soldiers. He only hoped that the same applied to overstressed foxes.

Krystal slowly lifted the bottle to her lips and took a drink, the sweet yet sharp taste of the Ranot exploding on her tongue. The last time she had Ranot was after her Rite of Ascendancy, nearly four cycles ago. Even half a glass got her kind of.. loopy, so she didn't take much more than that.

"Good start, at least." Brian mused, taking yet another pull. "I guess I should start, hm? Jakob Gellar, one of my best friends... heh." He motioned to the pistol which still sat in its holster as if it were a valuable artifact from a bygone era. "This was his gun. Even in death he saved my ass like he had many times before. Just... take one for his memory, okay?"

Krystal kept her eyes on Brian, noting that he seemed a bit more affected by the Ranot than he had a few moments ago... perhaps human physiology wasn't like a Cerinian's. She took another hesitant drink, already feeling the slight haze of the alcohol dulling her senses. "Your friend meant a lot to you, didn't he?"

"Damn right he did." Brian spat, waving a hand around the kitchen. "Only one of the group that visited me in Montana... the folks at Ken's Grill still ask about my 'crazy German business partner.' Took a bullet for me in Chechenia, was instrumental in determining which bank Sazbo held his money at, and... yeah. He was killed as we were trying to get away from Sazbo." Brian sighed, lifting the bottle and draining a good amount. Krystal could tell the Ranot bottle was almost empty... even her entire family couldn't finish one at a special occasion.

"I... I didn't know. I hope the Beyond is a kind place to your friend, and that he finds peace there." Krystal sighed as she leaned against the counter. For that reason, she hoped the Beyond provided peace to her parents... and her fellow Cerinians. She closed her eyes, forcing herself not to shed tears. "I know I told you that my parents were killed, but... but my homeworld was destroyed, too."

Brian blinked. Losing Jakob was a blow to him, but even though Krystal was an eccentric alien fox, losing your folks and your home was definitely something to be upset about. By all accounts she was alone here, and not having anyone to talk about it... yeah. Even in his drunken state he knew that of she didn't deal with it somehow, she was going to be a liability. "That's a pretty heavy blow to take, but believe me... you're going to have to take it and drive on." He glanced over to her, seeing that she still remained motionless, her eyes closed tightly. "You can't let these things distract you. If you want to let it out, I'm all ears... but we both know that if you crack up at a critical moment it may very well spell _our_ doom."

"I... I think I should try to explain what happened." Krystal's eyes opened, gazing at the human mercenary. "Our homeworld had come under attack... it was so sudden, we didn't have any warning of it. One evening, rockets and laser fire rained down on the city that was my home." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "First it was the lasers. They destroyed entire buildings and set entire neighborhoods on fire. We rushed out and tried to fight the fires well into that night."

Brian nodded, lazily setting the nearly empty bottle on the counter. He wasn't really sure what to say, so he nodded at her. "Go on, I'm listening."

"We made some headway, but... the rockets came. They caused even more damage, and..." Krystal broke off, shuddering slightly as a few bad memories came to her. "Some of them were filled with some sort of gas. They were... killing us! We hadn't done them any harm... we didn't even know who or what they were!" Krystal forced her tears back once more, but the grief was slowly replaced by anger. "They didn't make any demands or even any threats... they started destroying Cerinia without a word!"

Brian visibly winced at her outburst, even though he was sure he would be doing the same... although the merc knew he would have picked up the nearest gun and went out hunting for the bastards. "No idea who might've done all that killing?"He allowed his fogged mind to ponder that for a moment, as Krystal continued to look at him. "I mean... takes a lot of firepower to do that, and that stuff don't come cheap." The Cerinian noticed a slight slur hampering his speech; the human was definitely being affected.

Krystal nodded, a sigh escaping her lips. "I'm... not sure. As soon as the rockets came down, my parents decided it would be safer if I teamed up with some of the children of the other Council families. A few other families agreed and we made our way to the field we kept our ships. But... we were attacked there, and..." This time she couldn't hold her tears back, a soft sob escaping her. "They... they killed them... they killed my parents. I only escaped because I hit one with my staff's fire blaster. They scrambled to help the one I shot, and I managed to get the ship closed up before they could shoot me." Krystal sighed... it had been such a small victory.

"You didn't look at any of them?" Brian was mildly surprised. If they were some sort of military force or other, they would have had a uniform or standard weapon... although the distraught fox might not have a good description, she should at least know what they looked like... something which would help them if they somehow ran into them.

Krystal nodded, closing her eyes once more. "They had... armor, and some sort of coverings over their faces. Their eyes were big, like an insect's... and they all were dressed in black." She stopped for a moment, glancing to Brian. He was swaying a bit, and the dregs of the Ranot bottle had all but disappeared. "Are you... okay?" she inquired.

"Yeah. Just... fine." Brian arched a brow at the vixen as he pushed away from the counter, taking a few wobbly steps. "Cripes... this stuff was a little more punchy than I thought." Laughing a bit, the tipsy merc stumbled for the door. As he reached it he attempted to open the touchpad-controlled exit, but slapping his hand against the wall next to it failed. "Friggin' thing don't wanna work!" Scoffing at the supposedly subordinant machinery, he tried again, this time with enthusiasm. His strike caused a hollow thump to reverberate throughout the kitchen, as well as sent the human off balance.

With a heavy sigh Krystal rushed forward just in time to catch his fall, her arms winding underneath his shoulders as he tried to make contact with the floor. Grunting under his weight, she forced him to a standing position just enough to give her access to the touchpad. A gentle press upon it opened the door, sliding it open enough for Krystal to guide the drunken human through. "I think you've overdone it." Her tone of voice was laden with disappointment as she helped Brian over to the couch.

Brian regained at least some piece of his senses as he felt himself being directed out the door and into the ship's living area. "Dammit, I can do this m'self!" With a huff he tried to push away from Krystal, his dulled reactions causing him to fall forward. His hand shot out to catch the back of the couch... between that and Krystal grabbing hold of his free arm his balance was maintained.

"Apparently not, Brian." Krystal sighed, tugging the drunk merc around the couch, almost pushing him onto the couch. "You should stay put... I think you underestimated how much you had." With a sigh she planted herself on the couch a few feet away, her attention directed toward the viewglobe. She waved her paw at it and the device turned on, the empty globe coming alive with colors. Text hovered in front of her view, and she quickly navigated the menus while Brian tried to focus on the screen.

"Whass'that?" he inquired as the vixen danced her paw through a series of menus he couldn't read, the screen forming into some sort of map. His alcohol-fogged senses caught onto the fact they were looking at a map, but he wasn't entirely sure of what.

"It's a map of the planet. We are here, as far as I have been able to see." Krystal pointed to a portion of the hologram near the edge of the globe's one large landmass... most of the place was one giant ocean, aside from one decent-sized island chain off the coast of it. "And this... is where we need to go. Thorntail Hollow." She dragged her finger through the hologram and a bright red line appeared to direct at a point inland. From the looks of it, they had quite a bit of distance to cover.

Brian blinked as the slightly blurred image tried to make sense. "Uhm... thas' a long ways, looks like." Peering at a display that folated over the globe, Brian was once again mildly surprised to see that it was written in English. He pondered over the screen's data, before another revelation crossed his drunken mind. The display read '_Distance(estimated): 100.32 km.' _Not only did these Lylat people speak English, they used the metric system? His mind was henceforth boggled.

"I'm not sure on the Lylat distances, but a hundred of something seems like it might be a fair distance to travel. Unfortunately we're going to have to do it on foot, since I'm not even sure I can get this ship to fly even a short distance." The vixen sighed, glancing over to the drunken merc. "So, yes... we're walking this... hundred kay-em."

Brian glanced back to her, shaking his head. "Hunnred klicks is sixty miles, Krys. We's lucky't do it in days, mayb a week if the going's bad." The human's speech was detoriating fast; Krystal did a quick probing of Brian's mind. She felt a little bad about taking advantage of him in such a way, but he was the one who chose to overdo the Ranot... the complete and utter fog his mind was in was a good indication he was about to pass out on her.

Sighing again, Krystal shook her head. "We're going to have to do it. We've got food for a couple of days at least, and we may be able to find a Cloudrunner or two to take us at least part of the way. We _must_ do this, Brian. It' the only way to get this planet back together... and to get you home." She leaned back into the couch and glanced to the ceiling. She still felt a little loopy from the Ranot he had her drink, but the merc's ramblings made sense. She needed to concentrate on helping Sauria... there would be time to dwell on the destruction of her homeworld afterwards. She also had the glimmer of hope that she would find out what had happened along the way, but she knew that they had to get through this first. She gave a hint of a smile as she turned to Brian... as she thought, he had slipped into either sleep or unconsciousness; it was hard for her to tell which.

"Thank you." Her voice was a whisper as she crawled towards the opposite end of the couch, curling up into a ball as she had more than a few times before. Within moments she was sleeping again, and this time there were no nightmares to plague her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Notes: Well, this is quite simply the quickest chapter I've written in this story; I ran it out this entire weekend. I had a few ideas I wanted to have happen in this chapter, and it was really rewarding to see them happen. There's a little more character development and a bit more action and peril in this one, now that I'm starting to accelerate the pacing a little bit. Chapters will be a little longer and hopefully I'll get off my butt and start writing more; this is starting to get fun. **

** As another note, yes... Brian and Krystal are going to be put through some bad stuff in this, and future chapters. They're lightly armed and ill-prepared, unlike Fox's run through the game. He had Krystal's staff and a good support team (Pepper, Slippy, and Peppy) behind him as well as a few technological goodies. Brian and Krys are winging it with a riot baton and 9mm handgun, and completely in the dark about a few things. They'll make it, but they're only human(or Cerinian in her case.. hehe). They'll have victories, but they'll get their share of bumps along the way. That's all the spoilers I'm going to give at this time... heh.**

**I'm going to put a couple responses to past anon. reviewers who are hopefully still periodically checking back. Ya guys should get accounts even if you aren't planning on putting any stories up; you can subscribe to your favorites and be notified whenever they update. But, tp answer a few questions:**

**Northernmegas: Thanks for the review, and I'm glad you're liking things thus far! Unfortunately I'm not having Fara, Fox, and Krystal meet up together when they hit Thorntail hollow, but... there definitely will be 'fireworks' when they do. Especially when Fox sees that Falco left Starfox to be on Fara's team, at that. I won't give away too many surprises, though... but it will definitely play a factor in the future!**

**The Vulpine Furry: I definitely wouldn't mind reviewing your story when you choose to publish it. If you want me to beta read it a bit before you feel like posting it, contact me offlist! Also, I've seen that a few positive comments can go a long way; I've definitely improved my writing by quite a bit since I've posted my story on here. As far as any romance between Brian and Krystal is concerned? Well, I honestly haven't given it much thought. Since I've gotten a couple PMs and reviews about it, I'll just say that things'll turn out how they turn out... no spoilers. :P**

** Anyway, enough rambling. On with the story... it's more interesting than my ranting. :) **

Chapter 14: Getting There is _All_ the Fun...

One foot in front of the other, one patent leather dress shoe following its twin down an uneven forest path. Brian Lancing was no stranger to walking, although after all these years of 'humping it' in the Marine Corps, he still hated it. Add the fact he was still dressed in clothing more suited for a stuffy executive boardroom instead of a hiking trip or battlefield, and he wasn't liking it all that much.

He counted his possessions, something he had done for the twelveth time since he had been walking. He had one Glock 17 handgun with exactly one hundred twenty five nine-millimeter cartridges, spread over seven full magazines and one with five rounds left in it. The final round was nestled in the weapon's chamber, a simple trigger pull away from action. His wallet was still in his back pocket, with a mixture of Euro and American money; he estimated about fifteen hundred all in total... for what good that money would do. Krystal mentioned something about some sort of insects being used as the monetary system around here; the more glitzy and quicker the bug, the more it was worth.

Brian also had his multitool with him, a little object that had been extremely useful over his tenures as both a soldier and a mercenary. That was nestled in a pouch at his belt, ready to use if need be. The multitool even came with a small knife, but if he was down to using that he was pretty much dead, anyway. The thought that he wouldn't be finding any more ammunition, or firearms for that matter, crossed his mind. The small amount of military hand-to-hand training he had wouldn't be much against the raving bands of killer lizards they would surely face, and if he lost the edge that a gun provided, he would be screwed. Royally.

The rucksack that was settled upon his back was one of Krystal's, something she had found in her ship. It was sturdily made, although from natural materials rather than something synthetic. He carried a decent share of their food, which comprised of that dark bread and several glass bottles of water they had filled up for the journey. Still, sixty miles was rough ground to cover, and he wasn't very confident the food and water would last them until they reached Thorntail Hollow, as she called it.

On top of all that, he had a hangover and a decent one at that. He had definitely misjudged last night, and his headache wasn't being a very nice traveling companion. Even trading his piece for a bottle of Excedrin would have been tempting to him right now, just to distract the dull, throbbing pain for a little while. However, Brian's concentration was interrupted as he caught motion in front of them.

Immediately he halted, his body falling into a crouch as his hands automatically pulled the Glock from his shoulder holster. He barely heard the sound of footsteps behind him stop, signaling that Krystal was in fact following his lead. Aiming the handgun down the broken path before them for a moment, he simply waited. He was sure he had heard something, and he wasn't taking any chances.

Yet an exasperated sigh echoed from behind him, and he heard Krystal approach. The blue-furred vixen knealt beside him, her paw placing itself upon his upper arm and bringing his pistol down. "There wasn't anything out there this time, either. Just some sort of small animal." Her voice carried a very slight hint of annoyance along with the vixen's soft British accent. "Would you be able to trust me to tell you if something dangerous crosses our path?"

Brian glanced at her. Her jewelery and 'armor' was still there as usual, although she was wearing a backpack similar to his to accompany it. She was wearing her usual outfit of a simple top and loincloth, but he wasn't about to comment on it too much; at least she seemed more appropriately dressed for a cross-country trek than he was in his monkey suit. Yet, her words were what irked him the most; he was still a little unnerved at the fact she was a telepath. He didn't want anyone reading his thoughts, and the fact that he really didn't want to be there wasn't helping, either. "Well, you can say that I trust my instincts, and they've kept me alive thus far. You might be confident in your abilities, but putting blind trust in anything I don't understand isn't something I'm going to do right now."

Krystal sighed once again. They had this argument several times already and she wasn't getting through to him. The human might be skilled at combat, but he was stubborn and unwilling to let her help. She also knew he was a little angry at the notion that she might try to read him. Honestly, she felt a little bad that she had done it before, but how were they supposed to help rebuild Sauria if they were going to harbor resentment towards one another? The whole situation was confusing, especially since she was trying to let Brian do things at his pace, yet... things weren't working well. She wasn't going to peer deeper into his thoughts; she would rather have a friend instead of an ally who was constantly distrusting her. As much as either of them didn't like it, she realized they needed each other to get through this. Krystal had the telepathic ability, knew the Saurian language, and possessed the compassion and calm demeanor they would need to convince the scared Saurians that they were here to help.

Brian, on the other hand, was skilled in combat, even if it was with his race's particular brand of weaponry. He also had the mindset of a soldier; even Krystal could tell he was an experienced professional set in his ways. He was much... harder than she was, but she knew that was a weakness as well as a strength. Right now, the weakness shone through. She knew that they would have to be able to work together, and working together wasn't her following behind while he shot at anything that startled him.

"I know you're hesitant, but... we're in this together, aren't we?" Krystal decided to try once again. "Besides, you've been on the lead for most of the day... why don't I take over until we strike up camp?" She stood up as Brian did, holstering his blaster pistol before looking at her. She didn't have to use her abilities to tell he wasn't feeling well and was irritated, but hopefuly he would let her take the lead for a while. With luck, he might start to feel better.

"Alright. You win." Brian huffed, motioning her forward. Anything to get her from acting concerned and touching him. That he didn't understand, either. He wasn't dating the foxgirl, was he? Even that superfluous thought almost made him laugh. She was a fuzzy fox alien; not something he was attracted to. Yet, he was a little miffed at how easy she came into contact with him... most humans he was used to being around didn't do that, and dating was, well... out of the question since... a time he refused to dwell on. "Take the lead, but if the shooting starts make sure you're out of my line, alright?"

Krystal sighed and nodded, standing up and taking a few steps forward. "I understand." She didn't want to start another argument, and the already irritated merc seemed to almost be looking for an excuse to bicker. She shook off her comrade's foul attitude and decided to concentrate on the path towards the Hollow. Her attempt at keeping track of their overall distance seemed to be going well; she had gotten Brian to explain the Lylat system of measurement as they started out from the _Vucsed_ several hours ago. She estimated they had covered about fifteen kilometers thus far, which wasn't too bad considering they were winding their way through a shallow path hewn by overgrown tree roots and patches of mud. By carefully avoiding the hazards neither of them were filthy. This was a small comfort, especially since the vixen didn't relish the thought of trying to get mud out of her fur.

Still they had eighty-five kilometers separating them from Thorntail Hollow, where Kyte told her the Queen Earthwalker was in hiding. She would be the one to know how to retrieve the Spellstones and how to get the planet back in one piece. The Hollow was along the Great Road, a massive stone road leading around portions of the planet. They would reach the road soon, and if they took care to avoid the bands of Sharpclaw that were sure to be patrolling it, they would make even better time.

The two walked along in silence, other than Krystal pointing out particularly dangerous hazards along the trail, which wasn't very often. There had been much rain along the forest path, and the cover of the trees ahead made it difficult to see. Brian usually uttered a quick 'gotya' or grunted in affirmation as she made her way several meters ahead. Krystal found that she enjoyed pushing ahead through the forest, something she hadn't done since she was a kit. The thought almost brought bad memories to the front of her mind, but she pushed them away as soon as they started to come. She couldn't get distracted now, and keeping her mind off her task was dangerous.

Just how dangerous that was would soon be discovered as fleeting thoughts roamed through her mind... Sharpclaw were near. Krystal hissed at Brian, holding out her paw to stop as she tucked her lithe frame next to a tree trunk. She spotted Brian do the same behind her, sliding his pistol out of its holster once again. Her mind reached out towards the fragments of thought she captured, trying to figure out where they were coming from. The Sharpclaw were bored which was a very good sign; they were not actively searching for them at least. There were five of them present just ahead, but they were intent on beating a path through the wilderness rather than going down the one they were on... Krystal thought it was strange but wasn't going to risk probing any further.

"What's going on?" Brian's whisper was harsh as he scanned his surroundings, clutching the black polymer grip of his Glock. The weapon was up and tracking, but he couldn't see nor hear anything... yet. Still, he fervently wished Jakob had the foresight to install a threaded barrel and a suppressor on the pistol; with limited ammunition and manpower a full-on confrontation with guns blazing would have dire consequences.

"Sharpclaw ahead." Krystal whispered back, her mind concentrating on the receding thought patterns given off by the bored, malevolent dinosaurs. "They're headed away from us, and I think we can sneak past them." She waited a few more moments, her paw fingering the slender steel 'riot baton' she had strapped onto her pack. She still wished for her staff, but it was long gone. When the mess on Sauria was finished she would attempt to find it, or if she was lucky she would find it earlier. The weapon would give her an edge, probably moreso than Brian's blaster. Still she pushed away from the tree trunk and silently crept forward, hoping the merc would be as quiet as she was.

The vixen was mildly surprised that he actually was, his shoes falling without much of a sound upon the remains of dead leaves, grass, and small patches of mud. They moved at a snail's pace now, but as she felt the Sharpclaw fall well out of range she straightened up and moved quicker. Brian still had his blaster out, however... a fact which unnerved her a little bit, but not enough to tell him to put it away. There was a clearing ahead in any case, something which they would need to take care in crossing.

She slowed back down as she grew closer to the treeline, her eyes adjusting to the dimming light in the fading day. They had been walking for hours, and the daylight was beginning to turn to dusk... they might have to press on the entire night in order to get out of range of the Sharpclaw. Yet as she peered into the clearing, a wonderful sight greeted her eyes.

"We made it, Brian... it's the Road!" Her voice was low, but she knew the human was just behind her. To her relief she noticed he had put away the blaster and was glancing at the ribbon of cobblestones heading off to their left. The clearing was large, but the road disappeared into the trees some distance away... the same direction the group of Sharpclaw were heading, in fact.

"Well... I don't like taking my chances in the open." The merc stated her opinion for her; it was a dangerous gamble to be walking out on the road, especially in the clearing. "I say we keep in the trees and follow along. It might take longer, but we're going to have less of a chance running into these bastards if we stay hidden." Brian had felt the headache he had easing slightly over the past hour or so. That was a good sign, but like them, his hangover wasn't out of the woods yet.

Krystal nodded her assent as she pointed to their left. "We'll be trailing those Sharpclaw, but if we stay well enough behind them they won't see us. We might find a way around them, but I'm worried about them doubling back on us. I'm not sure why they're beating a path through the woods rather than taking the Great Road." Krystal's tail swished; she was afraid at the thought of entering an unprepared battle. Yet, she was a determined Cerinian, and nothing would hold her back from helping innocent Saurians. "Shall we go?"

Brian nodded and moved forward, holding out his hand as if motioning her back. "I'll take the lead again. Sounds like your mindreading skills are a help after all, but if we run into a bunch that eludes you I'm going to need clear lines of fire."Brian moved forward, effectively stifling any argument from her.

Krystal held her tongue for now. He at least acknowledged the fact that she was helping out, yet she was still miffed that he wasn't willing to trust her completely. Still, perhaps he would change his mind... she just hoped it was before they started making mistakes. She followed along behind him, the Sharpclaw group completely out of her mind's reach. Still, she kept _all_ her senses alert, just in case his statement would in fact become true. They crept along in silence, both a little nervous that the enemy was in fact out there, somewhere in the darkening forest.

They made it past the clearing in several minutes, much slower than they would have simply walked down the path. However, the real danger of attracting attention wasn't something they could afford. If the Sharpclaw were alerted they wouldn't have a Void's chance of getting to Thorntail Hollow. They continued to creep along the heavy brush and trees of the forest ahead, keeping as quiet as they possibly could.

The two finally made it to the relative safety of the Great Road, now sheltered in the orange glow of dusk through the cover of forest. Brian could see that the road was wide, almost as wide as a two-lane highway in fact. The cobblestones looked old yet the road seemed surprisingly smooth... especially if he imagined a construction crew of dinosaurs building it. It was like that old show he watched on TV, the one with the muppet dinosaurs. Funny how these old memories came back to him sometimes. "Well, we're here. What now?" he mused quietly as Krystal knelt beside him.

"We could try crossing the road. I'm still not picking up any Sharpclaw. I'm actually sensing a few small animals. That might mean they haven't been here for a while." She flashed a smile to him; the trip had been relatively smooth thus far, if one took their arguing out of the equation. She let herself have a glimmer of hope that the trip would go quickly and they would find themselves in Thorntail Hollow soon. "I can't tell exactly what kind of small animals they are, but it's a good sign."

"Perhaps." Brian mused. "If there's wildlife around here, we've done a good job of keeping quiet and not startling them. We need to find a safe place nearby to hole up for the night... we're not going to get too far poking our way around in the dark." Brian tried to judge how much daylight they had left, which was pretty much impossible on an alien planet, he figured. As far as he knew, they could have two hours left, or they could have thirty minutes. Either way, he was getting hungry... hungry enough for that dark bread and water to sound mighty appealing. He would have killed for a nice, big hamburger right about now, but... he needed to keep his mind on the mission.

Krystal nodded as she peered down the road in both directions, her senses working overtime. She couldn't sense any Sharpclaw, and in that aspect they were free and clear. "You're right... we don't have much time left. We really do need to find a safe spot." With another sigh she stepped out from the woods and onto the road. As she crossed it, however, all hell broke loose.

A flash of green and the flutter of beating wings gave the vixen a split second of warning; warning given a little too late as the strange winged lizard launched from the trees like a missile headed straight for her. Krystal didn't have time to reach for the baton before it was on her, its sharp talons ripping into her left arm and sharp beak driving itself into her throat... or attempting to. The bronze pauldron she wore deflected the killing blow, yet fire shot up and down her side as the beak struck her in the collarbone. Krystal gave off a pained moan as the creature launched itself from her, ready to try again.

Brian's reaction was automatic, the culmination of years of training and battlefield experience overiding the sensation of shock at seeing ones' ally nearly killed right in front of him. Adrenaline-fueled muscles shot him out into the road, hefting the pistol he had no idea he had already drawn. As the creature hesitated for the second at the emergence of new prey, the Glock's notch and post sights were already placed on the creature. The merc's finger stroked the trigger twice, the Glock's sharp cracking reports echoing out into the wilderness.

The winged beast didn't have time to react as the 135-grain 9x19mm hollowpoints punched into it, the resistance of its flesh opening up the wickedly-designed bullets and creating large wound channels. Blood spilled out of the creature as it lost the strength to fly, its dying body slamming to the ground with a muffled thump... an anticlimatic end to the being that almost took Krystal's life.

Krystal fell to her knees, struggling to get up. She could feel her blood coating her arm and running down her chest,but she was alive at least. However, she knew that Brian's shots would draw attention, and even though she was hurting the real danger had begun. However, she was sure he knew that as he bent down and pulled her up with her good arm. "I... I'll be fine." Her voice carried a lot of pain behind it, but she needed to force it down. She ran through a few calming techniques and felt it subside, at least for a little bit. "There'll be... Sharpclaw. We need to go."

Brian sighed. There wasn't really any choice in the matter; she would have been killed had he not opened up on that fucking flying imp, and if she died the hope of getting back home died with her. He wound his arm around her, being careful of the fact she had six large gashes and what looked to be a very large furrow across the top of her chest. They didn't have a first aid kit, but that would be a bridge to burn later. With his pistol in one hand and the wounded vixen in the other he started to run forward, guiding Krystal into the woods.

Krystal held on, leaning on the merc as much as she could without slowing him down. She could feel the blood pour down her body, at first soaking into her fur... then dripping from her saturated left paw. They needed to rest, but even now she could sense the Sharpclaw rushing forward. How could she have missed them? "They're... coming." She struggled forward with Brian, her senses trying to focus past the pain and figure out where the Sharpclaw were coming from. She could tell the group of five were now rushing up from behind, but... she nearly stopped as she sensed more approaching from the front. "Front... close." Her voice was strained as she choked out the words.

"Shit." Brian looked to his left, a path parallel to the cobblestone path mere yards from where they stood. After a split second he decided to take it, pushing their way into the trees. They wouldn't make much time, and he knew that their only chance was to outrun their pursuers... something he couldn't exactly do walking like this. He stopped, taking another few seconds to think. "Fireman's carry." He stuttered this out as he lifted Krystal up, slinging her over his shoulders before moving forward. She wasn't nearly three-hundred pounds of Marine and gear, but it had been a while since he had done it and because of that, he was moving slowly. Still, they had to move, and quickly.

Krystal held back a whimper as she was picked up. She was forced into an awkward position, but they were moving a lot quicker. They weren't moving faster than the Sharpclaw, but they were a little confused at where they were. Perhaps they would get past them after all. Her mind was fuzzing over, but she still tried to concentrate on the Sharpclaw. A panicked sensation grew as she realized one of them had stopped... and was smelling her blood. They were on the trail. "Behind us..." she spat out. She felt Brian move faster as a result.

They were going to gain on them, and he wasn't going to be able to do much about it. They were slowed down and the Sharpclaw weren't. Suddenly they emerged into another clearing, this time one much smaller. The open space was dominated by a thick patch of mud in its center... Brian didn't even want to venture into it. Yet, as he skirted around it he found a few fallen logs. He might be able to set up an effective defense there, and he decided to do it. Gently setting Krystal down, he noticed that some of her bleeding had stopped; her fur had matted to the wounds and caused them to close up. She sat against one of the logs and looked up at him.

"Why are we stopping?" she inquired, wincing as she tucked herself into the log beside him. She could sense them coming closer now, thundering through the trees and closing in on the clearing. "They're coming!" She saw Brian shift to a crouching position, his blaster propped against the log. He was as ready as he was going to be.

Krystal wasn't mistaken as the lizards started to emerge from the treeline, Brian getting his first good look at them. They were ugly bastards; mostly shorter than he was but with enough muscle to look like they could tear him apart quite easily. They weren't armed with guns, at least... most of them wielded clubs or spears, and two of them carried some sort of sword. A few of the club-wielding ones had wooden shields up and ready. A few hisses and grumbles of surprise came from them as they spotted him peeking up from around the log. He had sixteen rounds left in the Glock, and he was about to use them. The gun's sights settled upon the chest of the lead Sharpclaw, and he pulled the trigger.

Brian double-tapped the lead one, not even noticing it tumble to the ground before he switched to the one right behind it. His shots were quick and precise, the Glock thundering its reports into the quickly approaching twilight. There were eight left now from what he could count. They started charging and he kept on firing, burning up the ammunition in the magazine in short order.

Brian hit the Glock's mag release, dumping the spent mag into Krystal's lap as he reached for another full one. "Save it!" he shouted as he hit the slide release and continued firing. Short, concentrated double-taps slammed into the group, eight more rounds fired until he saw there was only one left. That one seemed to have enough sense behind it to take cover, darting behind one of the trees.

Krystal stashed the object that had fallen out of his blaster, her right arm stuffing it into her pack as quickly as her pain would allow. As the sharp reports from his weapon subsided, she looked up at him. "Are they...?" she questioned, forcing herself to get ready to stand.

"One left. Looks like he might be holding back. I think we put enough fear into 'em that they might stay back." Brian slowly stood up, his hand grabbing for Krystal's and pulling her up with him. As he moved to slide her onto his back once more, she shook her head.

"I think I can... walk now." She winced at the pain in her arm and upper chest. She could tell the blood loss weakened her a bit, but they had to keep moving. She needed to walk on her own to save the both of them. The vixen took a deep breath before starting forward, motioning for Brian to follow.

Brian got up, keeping an eye on where the last Sharpclaw had been... something didn't seem right to him. Yet, an opening was an opening, and they had to take it. Krystal was jogging toward the trees and so was he... until a blur of motion caught the corner of his eye. The Sharpclaw was charging again, only this time holding some sort of... training took over again. "Frag out! Take cover!" Brian raised the Glock at the same time the Sharpclaw tossed the object.

The object landed just as Brian shot the lizard, its body tumbling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. The merc jumped up and away from the grenade just as it went off. The world turned to fire and chaos before everything turned... black.

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Krystal rushed into the trees as soon as she heard Brian's shout... the reports from his pistol drowned out by the explosion which almost knocked her to the ground. The trees shook from the blast, and she turned to see what had happened.

The bomb the Sharpclaw tossed had been powerful... powerful enough some of the branches were snapped off the trees near her. She saw Brian's body on the ground several yards from the epicenter of the blast, unmoving. With a gasp she rushed back out there, running to his side.

He was in bad shape from what she could see, the debris from the bomb shredding part of his clothing. Slowly she turned him over, a sigh of releaf given that he wasn't as badly hurt as she first thought. He was cut in several places, some of them as deep as the ones she now sported, but he was still alive.

Slowly, she struggled to pick him up. He was heavy, but she had faced worse during her Ascension. One of the tests was carrying the Weight of Trials through a Kokli field, and that seemed heavier than the human mercenary. However, she was carrying him with several deep gashes down her arm and one just under her collarbone, and dealing with the resulting blood loss. She had to try, and she struggled with Brian as she pushed her way through the forest. They had to reach a safe place before more Sharpclaw came. If they remained, they would be killed.

Krystal pressed on, the scent of her blood mixing with his heavy in her nose. She couldn't focus on sensing the Sharpclaw anymore; all of her effort needed to be focused on their survival. The darkened forest presented its own hazards; even with better night vision than most she nearly tripped over tree roots several times. It took her an hour to cover a kilometer, from her reasoning... but perhaps they were far enough to be safe. She would stop in the next clearing they came to... it would give them at least a little room to breathe.

Another hour later she was growing tired. The forest was carrying on, but she knew every footstep she took took them farther from the Sharpclaw. Finally she could see the outline of another small clearing just ahead, illuminated by moonlight. As she grew closer to the edge of it, she could see some sort of object neatly placed within. She emerged and gave it a puzzled glance.

The object was some sort of vehicle. It looked like a hovercar, albeit with wheels instead of repulsor coils. Whatever the wheelcar was, it looked sleek and sculpted by the wind, as if it longed to be traveling instead of sitting in the middle of a forest clearing. The appearance of the vehicle puzzled her, and she gently set Brian down next to it.

The logo on the front of the car was a strangely-shaped 'A'. Actually... she had a thought. Reaching down to her unconscious friend, she dug into his pockets and withdrew the set of old metal keys he wore. The logo matched the one on his key. The vehicle was from his world... perhaps the key might fit?

Krystal found what looked to be a lock on one of the vehicle's two doors. She inserted the key, but was surprised when it would not turn. Her curiosity piqued, she tried to pull the handle up, and found that the vehicle was locked. She gave a sigh at that, glancing back down to Brian. She could tell he wasn't going to be awakened anytime soon, and now that they were out of the way she had some time to do some rudimentary first aid.

Reaching into her pack, the vixen extracted two blankets... these were supposed to be their sleeping arrangements for the night. She tore part of one into several strips, quickly bandaging the six gashes in her arm. The pain had worked down to a dull throbbing, but she hoped she was able to get some better medical equipment when they reached the Hollow. The bandage over her collarbone was clumsy, looking all the world like a shrunken sash tied around her... but at least it worked. The last vestiges of her bleeding stopped, she turned to tend to Brian.

Gingerly slipping his coat and shirt off, she saw the extent of the bomb's damage. Several deep gashes were torn into his side, although those had thankfully stopped bleeding. Humans didn't have fur, and the fact that they were missing that natural bandage could be dangerous. There were several small cuts on his leg and minor burns in a few spots, but they were too numerous to really bandage well.

Krystal pulled the merc's clothes back on, propping his head upon her lap. A shivering spell overcame her... the temperature had been dropping steadily for the past few moments. She knew her blood loss was making her feel colder, and she reached for the blanket. "You might not like this, but we both need the extra body heat." She gently wrapped the blanket around them both, setting the riot baton within easy reach. It was just then that the vixen realized that Brian's blaster had been lost in the shuffle... they were now missing his weapon. They were alive, however... and that was what counted. Krystal's ear twitched as she leaned back against the cold metal of the vehicle's frame, hoping it would provide some shelter from the wind.

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Brian's head hurt... like all hell. Everything was dark, and frankly, it wasn't just his head that hurt. His whole body ached, as if it were protesting the abuse it had gone through in the past few days. Was he dead? No... it wouldn't hurt if he was dead. His body was on the cold, hard ground, but he was warm enough. He was nestled in a blanket, and his head was on something soft... and furry.

He put two and two together. His head was on the foxgirl's lap. Judging from her soft, even breathing she was asleep and she was trying to keep warm. Judging at how much blood she lost when that imp thing attacked her, he wasn't going to complain too loudly, but... it was an uncomfortable position to be in. She was sitting up and sleeping, and that told him she was propped against something.

Brian reached up to grab hold of the tree trunk or log she was propped against to pull himself up... and startled as he felt smooth metal instead. Poking his head from underneath the blanket, he looked up to an astounding sight. The merc was staring at a car door. There was a car out here. Even though he was aching, he almost jumped for joy. Bracing himself and getting to his feet, he took another look at the car.

His uncle had bought one new when he was a kid... many old memories came flooding back to him as he found himself staring at the dark paintjob of the old Acura Legend coupe sitting in front of him. The memories of Uncle Jake's car had caused him to buy an Acura RL after he was pushed out of the Marines. "Jesus." All the emotion of the past two days came out with that word, but if he could get this Legend fired up they wouldn't be outrun by Sharpclaw, that was for sure. If he was exceptionally lucky there would be a gun in the car... something he could arm Krystal with. He had his Glock... he paused a moment as he felt his empty shoulder holster.

The Glock wasn't there. He patted himself down... he had five full magazines and the partial, but no pistol. After that he glanced to Krystal. She wasn't holding it, either. "Fuck." His sigh echoed the revelation he had just gone through. He was out a gun, but he had a car. If he could get it started, of course. All he needed to do was get into it.

He inspected the vehicle a little more. The car had Oregon tags, expiring in 2008. The car might have been here recently, or for a while... it didn't look too disturbed so hopefuly it would start up. Testing the driver's door, he found it locked. This would be a little more difficult. He didn't want to bash out a window and set off the car's security system. As he looked inside the interior, he found the little red light blinking at him. The car had battery power, then. If he set the alarm off, the car wouldn't start. Now was the time to start praying there was a key.

He started by checking under the bumpers and fenders. Underneath the rear fender he came across a small case, attached to the frame of the car by a magnet. That was what he was looking for. Grinning, he pulled the hidden key case out into the open and glanced inside. A couple of house keys and one car key greeted his sight, and he wasted no time in putting the key onto his keychain. He went to the door once again and inserted the key into the lock, turning it and listening to the power locks opening with a satisfying click. As he opened the door, the comfortable leather interior and wooden trim greeted him. Three pedals and a stick shift also graced the interior, and a glance at the gas gauge read nearly full. The Acura seemed to be in excellent shape, and it would cut their trip down to no time.

He circled around the car, reaching Krystal's sleeping form. Tapping her on her good shoulder, he spoke in a soft tone. "Hey... you awake?" The vixen stirred, murmuring a bit before startling awake. Her green eyes snapped open and her paw clasped around the riot baton.

"Brian? You're okay!" She grinned as she stood up, wrapping him in a brief hug. "I wasn't sure how soon you would wake up. We're away from the Sharpclaw now, and I took shelter by this wheelcar. I don't know how to operate it, but..."

"It's okay... calm down a little bit." Brian pulled away a bit. "I found the keys. We're going to be able to reach this Thorntail hollow place in a couple hours at most if things go well. And... thanks for saving my ass. You did good." Brian gave a slight smile at that, before picking both their packs off the ground. Moving to the driver's side of the car once more, he popped the trunk release and threw the backpacks in. He was hungry, but food could wait until they got out of there. Unfortunately he didn't find anything in the trunk, other than a few tools, a couple of bottles of oil, and a bottle of coolant. No guns.

Krystal followed him, glancing at the car. "The symbol on your keys matches the one on the car. Is this something you use on your homeworld?" She was curious now, glancing at the strange vehicle. There were lights on inside, and she noticed the seats were clad in some sort of tan leather. Without any prompting from him, she opened the other door and ran her paw across the seat... it was smooth and comfortable, which would be nice in comparison to the ground they had been on.

"Something similar, yeah. A family member of mine owned one of these exact ones, though... it really is a nice ride, if not older." He gave a puzzled look towards her. "Still, it's strange to find one of these sitting out in this forest. The keys were practically in easy reach, and it's not a rusted-out hulk, too. I'd say this would be too strange for words, but really... I'm on this planet too." He shut the trunk and climbed in the car, motioning for Krystal to do the same.

The vixen slid into the comfortable interior, although it was obvious the vehicle was designed around his species. There was no room for her tail, so she simply curled it around her waist. She noticed Brian shutting the door behind him, and she followed suit. "I can't tell you how you got here, Brian. I don't know how this vehicle got here either.. I'll just call it a blessing from Melos." She gave a quick smile towards him as she saw him pull some sort of strap over his body, locking it into place with a click.

"Uhm... seatbelt?" Brian looked over to Krystal, who gave a blank stare back. He went into action then, reaching across her to pull the seatbelt out of its resting place and across her body, clicking it into the lock next to the seat. "Keeps you in one place if there's an accident." At her nod, he inserted the keys into the ignition and turned the key.

Krystal almost yelped as she heard a whine come from the front of the car, before a rumbling sound took his place. Brian gave her a grin, but the sound of static filled the car. He touched a button on one of the controls and it immediately shut off... giving a scoff at the sound. "No reception out here, so no tunes." His hand moved for a lever just behind those controls, moving it backwards... and then they too were moving backwards. The vehicle responded to his manipulations, making a circle around the clearing before he pulled forward. His hand twisted something, and the vehicle's lights came on.

Brian pulled the big Acura forward slowly, until he could see the layout ahead. If he was lucky... yes. There was a path through the trees big enough to guide a car, albeit roughly. The Legend shook and twisted as it rolled over roots and dodged tree trunks until he wound up on the relatively even path of that big cobblestone road. He accelerated easily, gently bringing the car into second, and then third gear. The vehicle glided forward, almost seeming as if it were happy to be driven again. The speedometer edged up to thirty, and then thirty-five. He then shifted into fourth and kept it there, easing the Legend down the road. Actually, it felt good to be behind the wheel again, and he looked over at Krystal. With a nod he bumped the climate control up... they needed some extra warmth.

Krystal stared down the Great Road as they glided along. They were going to make it to Thorntail Hollow, and relatively soon. They might be battered and bleeding, but she knew her spirits were high. Sharpclaw couldn't run that fast, and if they made good time they would be relatively safe. "Thank you." The vixen leaned back in the seat as the vents in front of her blasted out warm air, helping to calm her aching, beaten body.

"Same to you." Brian kept his focus on the road, but gunned the throttle a little bit. He would have to rely on her on exactly how to get there, but at least they would get there without any more close battles. The Sharpclaw were tough, he would give them that... one of them nearly punched his ticket. At least he knew now some of them carried grenades, and that mistake wouldn't be made again. There were makeshift bandages around his body and he felt like his head had been Mike Tyson's personal punching bag... but he also had hope he would get off this rock. Sitting in the car made him feel like he was home already.

He turned to glance to Krystal, who had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. He drove on in silence. He would wake her as he thought they were getting close; they had some travelling to do before then. The merc turned his attention to piloting the big Acura through the night air, a familiar car on an alien road, headed toward an unknown but hopeful destiny.


	15. Filler 1

Notes: Yes, unfortunately this is a filler chapter. I'm not going to be doing much writing over the holidays. However, I wanted to try a filler piece for the time being, although I'm not entirely sure how well this turned out. I was attempting to do a dialog-only piece(hence the radio show format) tying up some loose ends and to describe what is happening on Earth. However in typical fashion I'm creating a few more mysteries so don't expect too much to be revealed.

SF Ghost: Thanks for the review! I've been meaning to read the sequel to G Wing and have just started. While I don't have too much time to write it doesn't mean I won't have time to read, so expect a review up shortly.

September 3, 2007

IKBS Radio Building

Spokane, Washington

Ken Martins sat down in his overstuffed leather office chair and glanced around the small booth he had called his 'window to the world' for the past twelve years. The place was a mess as it was usually; empty Taco Bell and McDonalds wrappers littered the desk and the floor. Various framed photographs of the wiry fifty year old radio personality with various other famous people provided a little personality to the studio, and a battered old IBM Thinkpad laptop was open in front of him. His equipment, however, was pristine; cared for with an almost religious reverence in the midst of the cesspool he worked in.

Ken reached over and took a bite of his Big Mac, chasing it down with a sip of slightly watered-down Coke. The past week had been a flurry of various interesting news reports... at least interesting to his radio show. _The Paranormal Connection_ had been picked up by over two-hundred stations in the past twelve years he had been hosting it, and something told him they were at the forefront of strange new era for humankind. However, those thoughts were put on hold a bit... he had but a few seconds until he was on the air.

_"This is Ken Martins, and welcome to The Paranormal Connection; your link to the outerworldly, otherworldly, and the unexplained. Before we begin for tonight, I'd like to remind all of you that this is an open call night. I'm going to start out with a subject that has been hotly debated on our Internet forums and plastered all over the mainstream media."_

_"Sometimes truth can be stranger than fiction. Any of our frequent listeners can testify to that, but seldom is it presented all over the mainstream. The story you're about to hear if you've been under a rock or in a bomb shelter for the past week is so unexplainable even the world government can't keep it under wraps."_

_"Early morning on July 28, the luxury cruise ship _Neptune Queen_ mysteriously disappeared. It was charting a course through the north Atlantic with four hundred thirty-seven passengers and crew. The liner completely fell off radar screens, satellite feeds, and even shipboard communications and Internet access was cut. Now, even with the authorities not discovering any wreckage, this would be a topic of interest on our program."_

_"However, where the story changes is when the passengers and crew of the _Queen_ were in fact found... three-thousand miles away, off the coast of Haiti. Only fifty-seven survived the two-day ordeal in the middle of the ocean. Honestly, this is a grim and unexplained tragedy, but we do have scattered details."_

_"Sources I obviously cannot credit have told me what the authorities have been keeping from us. The _Neptune Queen_ encountered rough seas and a thunderstorm... but the lightning bolts glowed a brilliant green, according to most of the survivors. The liner was struck by several of them... and every single one of those interviewed lost consciousness."_

_"To further the mystery, apart from waking up floating helpless in the ocean, several bodies had been recovered with gunshot wounds... gunshot wounds consistant with military assault rifles. So, to recap... we have an entire cruise liner disappearing without a trace, its occupants dumped into shark-infested waters several thousand miles away, and it appears that some of them had been shot with military-grade weapons. Is this the work of us experimenting with alien technology, or is this completely of our own doing? Let's hear your opinions, folks... the lines are open."_

_-------------------------------------------_

_"You're back in the studio with me, Ken Martins, and you're listening to _The Paranormal Connection._ We've been discussing the _Neptune Queen_ disappearance, and we've heard quite a few interesting viewpoints and theories as to how this could have happened. Our next caller is one Paul Meyers from Milton-Freewater, Oregon... and my call board says he has had a strange... firsthand experience with this so-called "Death Lightning." Mr. Meyers, you're on the air."_

"Thank you, Ken. I'm a first-time caller but have listened once in a blue moon. Love the show."

_"Thanks. You said you have actually seen this... green lightning in action?"_

"You're damn well right I have, Ken. I'm having a hell of a time with my insurance agency because of it, too."

_"Your insurance agency? What happened?"_

"The damnest thing happened, that's what. I was driving home from work, I've got a nice little place out in the country. About a minute before I got home, the clouds started getting all dark real quick. I pull into my drive, and hear this constant rumbling of thunder. I get out of my car and start to head inside, and... BOOM!"

"I was lifted off my feet and thrown backwards, maybe five feet or so, I don't know. All I saw was this green flash and glow, and next thing I know I'm flat on my ass... my car's completely gone."

_"Interesting, but considering the news reports and the few hoax calls we've been getting on this, I think our listeners out there would like some evidence that this happened? You were telling my screeners that you in fact have some evidence that this happened, right?"_

"I absolutely do, Ken. I've got a surveillance camera on my roof just in case someone tries to rob my house, uploads footage to the Internet, too. Got the whole thing on tape. Even sent it to my insurance people, but they're claiming it was an act of God and that I'm not covered. I paid seven grand for that Acura, and all my agency wants to do is twiddle their thumbs!"

_"I hope you don't mind that they uploaded your footage to our Internet site a few minutes ago, Paul. I want some feedback on this, but I'm watching this on my screen now and it looks, well... real. I've done a bit of television work before coming into radio, and this footage doesn't look doctored..."_

_--------------------------------_

_"And, for this final segment I'll recap from the Internet forum. Rudolf Lindermann, from the great nation of Switzerland, has another green lightning story. We've got the _Neptune Queen, _Paul Meyer's car, and now another bizarre story. We have some people thinking that the MIB or MJ-12 is involved, and we have others debunking this theory. However, Mr. Lindermann gives us another strange piece of the puzzle."_

_"Lindermann works as a security guard for a bank; the specific name withheld. Apparently on the same day of the _Queen's_ disappearance, several armed men stormed the bank, apparently looking for another group of armed men. None of them were identified. A shootout occurred, leaving five gunmen dead... miraculously nobody else was injured or even fired at. Police responded quickly and there was a high-speed chase. However, the vehicles mysteriously disappeared."_

_"This would sound like a case of a bank robbery attempt gone haywire, but both vehicles raced into a building storm; several eyewitnesses reported seeing... you guessed it... green lightning."_

_"Frankly, this confuses me as well as anyone who tries to comprehend what exactly is going on. We may never know what caused this rash of disappearances. Will it happen again? Only time will tell. Until next time, this is Ken Martins, signing off. Keep safe, America."_


	16. Chapter 15

**Author's Notes: Well, it's been a while, and I apologize.** **Work's been taking a major toll on my free time and I've been struggling with a minor case of writer's block. However, the good news is that I've pushed this chapter out. I have Chap. 17 and part of 18 done, although 16 is still a blank slate... this does mean that I have a very good direction for the next few chapters. Expect things to pick up, and pick up quickly. I do want to thank y'all that have reviewed, especially recently.**

** Yes, both Brian and Krystal are going to be in for some hard times. I don't want to go too heavy on the character torture, but yes. Things will be difficult, and both of 'em are going to be taking their bumps in the next few chapters.  
**

**Killr noob: I didn't expect you to review chapter by chapter; that was pretty cool. However, you inadvertently gave me a couple ideas, so thanks a bunch. Hehe.**

**Delta: Well, I tried to make sure some of the explaining was taken care of before I took off... heh. However, I think you'll like the action to come in the next few chapters. Also, don't want to prod you on here, but are you considering finishing your story? I started reading it; you've got some pretty solid material there. **

** Edao: Thanks again for the review... the subjectiveness is really helping. Yes, Meran is having some... difficulty in controlling his powers, as you'll see later in this chapter. This will probably become a major plot element later in the story; just keep tuned.**

**SF Ghost: Thanks again! I haven't forgotten about ya; I'm reading through G-wing as well as my work schedule has had time to allow. I like what I've seen so far, but I want to read it all before posting a review. That should happen soonish.**

**And, finally... 'A foo.' Well, nobody has to pity this foo... hehe. Thanks for siccing Mr. T on me to get the last few paragraphs in this one together. laughs Hope ya enjoy.**

** Now... on with the show.**

* * *

Chapter 15: Bushwhacked...

Krystal's eyes opened, taking in the faint rays of sunlight which began to peek over the horizon as she shifted on the leather seat of the wheelcar Brian had appropriated. The merc was still asleep, his seat reclined as far back as it could go. They had reached Thorntail Hollow, at last. It was the end of the beginning as far as she could tell. They were alive and mostly well, and was what mattered.

Slowly, she fumbled around to open the vehicle's door and slid out, deft fingers and reflexes making sure Brian wasn't disturbed. She pushed the door shut and glanced over the small valley which lay before them. It was a peaceful sight, and memories of Cerinia began to well up inside of her.

Thorntail Hollow was a relatively small area on Sauria, but an important one to all those who opposed Scales. The Queen Earthwalker was in hiding here, which was a very closely guarded secret. Krystal wondered where they would meet her... she obviously knew where the Spellstones were kept and how to get there. Yet for now, the vixen contented herself with looking out over the small valley.

A stream almost neatly bisected the Hollow, its cool, clear current falling from the cliff opposite the ledge they were currently parked on and winding its way towards a cave at the far end. The thought of taking a swim crossed her mind... it would be pleasant at the very least. She glanced down into the valley below and saw the figures of several Thorntail milling around the small valley meadow. Everything looked peaceful and quiet as she made her way down the short path and emerged into the meadow. She took her time and moved slowly; her arm and collarbone still hurt from the flying lizard attack. They would take some time to heal, but time was a luxury she didn't have.

As she stepped forward, something flitting and familiar touched her mind, a presence she was familiar with yet couldn't place. Her ear twitched in puzzlement as she looked around, glancing at the Thorntail minding their business. It seemed odd to her that they were acting like strangers walked into the middle of their feeding grounds all the time. Krystal slowly approached one of them, then stopped as the presence returned. Her head turned to a grove of trees off to her right, the somewhat familiar sensation seeming to direct her towards the grove. Ignoring the curious glances from the few Thorntail that were grazing in the small section of the valley, she made her way forward.

As she made her way into the small group of trees, the presence intensified, Krystal's mind gaining a sensation she had only recently lost. It was akin to a blind man regaining his sight... her staff was somewhere close by. The vixen's excitement level rose as she tried to locate her lost weapon, hazel eyes peering into the undergrowth to try to find it.

She caught a glimpse of its blue focusing crystal laying under a patch of brush. With a smile she darted towards the vegetation, paws eagerly diving in and wrapping around her most prized possession. They would be fine... the ceremonial staff had many offensive and defensive capabilities, and was part of any noble Cerinian's passage into adulthood.

Krystal gripped her staff, smiling softly as her mental focus shifted to checking it. The ancient Cerinian weapon seemed unharmed from its fall, its metallic construction suffering little from the abuse it had seen. Her smile grew as she stood up... she was now armed and ready to take on the worst Scales could throw at them.

What the vixen didn't know was that she was being watched. Her focus was almost entirely on her staff and not watching out for anyone lurking nearby. The two Imperial Legion troops fifty meters behind her were patiently waiting for a clear shot as the sights of their stun rifles were placed upon her back.

Stunner weapons weren't used all that often outside of capturing fugitives and in prisons, and for good reason. They lacked the range blasters had, and while they were marketed as a non-lethal weapon a shot to the head or brain stem could 'short out' the central nervous system. The chance of this happening wasn't very great, but the consequences were usually fatal. With such a high-profile target as the Cerinian channeler in their sights, the two soldiers had the right to be nervous. When she stopped moving, one of them tightened their finger on the trigger.

Krystal's ear twitched as a presence brushed her mind. She had let her guard down and someone was near... someone who was after her. Mentally she cursed her excitement at finding the staff; she wasn't all that experienced with her abilites. The mistake of not waking Brian also weighed heavily on her mind, but she would deal with that later. She had her staff, and that made it a lot easier for her to get out of a bad situation. As she heard a strange _pop_ noise from behind she went into a crouch, ready to deal with the threat.

The vixen's crouch was a fatal mistake, one which cast a cold shadow over the heart of the Venom soldier who had fired the stunner. The slow-moving silver beam was now directed at the back of the Cerinian's head, and there was nothing he could do about it but watch.

Krystal screamed for a split second as she felt fire slam into the back of her neck, her entire body flaring with pain as she stumbled to the ground. Her paws still gripped her staff which she tried to push herself up with... until she felt nothing. The pain subsided but she couldn't feel her arms... or anything for that matter.

She panicked for a minute, struggling to lift unresponsive limbs. She tried to shout but nothing came out... she tried to take a breath but couldn't. Her mind raced as she struggled against her complete paralyzation. This couldn't be happening... what was going on? Her mind's connection to her staff was slipping, and she felt herself sliding into unconsciousness. The last thing she saw was the two shadowy figures who suddenly stood over her... then everything went black.

-----------------------------------------------

The fog of sleep released its grip over Brian slowly yet surely. He felt the warm, soft leather he had been laying back on, having reclined the Legend's seat back as far as it would go. That alone brought back memories of a road trip that he had been on with his uncle... God, years ago. They had went to Florida then, a very long trip yet well worth-it. He smiled at that as his hand hit the seat controls, bringing them back to a more drivable position.

He glanced to the passenger seat, noticing Krystal was already up and gone. "Great." the merc mused. It would take some doing to find her if she had wandered off. Without any way to communicate with the locals, she was pretty much doubling as his translator. "I hope this doesn't turn into a babysitting job." With a sigh he opened the door, stepping out into the small path he had parked the car in.

Brian was also hungry. Very damn hungry. The backpacks with that strange dark bread were something that suddenly seemed mighty tasty. He reached down to the trunk release and pushed the button, the trunk opening with a muffled _pop_. He made his way to the trunk, grabbing one of the backpacks that lay within.

After rummaging through it for a moment he returned with a slightly smashed chunk of alien bread and a flask of water. Instantly he started wolfing the food down, guzzling the water to chase it. The bread tasted pretty good, nothing like he had expected, and the water was still cool from the previous night.

As he reached back down into the trunk for another serving, a soft _beep_ caught his attention. He glanced around for the source of the noise for a moment yet found nothing. When he was about to disregard it, the _beep_ sounded again; this time he noticed a flash of red light somewhere above the rear deck of the trunk. Brian squatted down and caught a glimpse of a strange device. The thing was round, barely the diameter of a quarter and about twice as thick. It _beeped_ again, flashing a red light at him.

"I doubt Honda engineers put _that_ on the car." the merc mused, his suspicions rising. Something was up, and a line of thought clicked into place. "Shit... fucking hell." Brian cursed as he knew he had made a _massive_ mistake. He was sure that beeping object was a tracking device, and he just brought someone down on their asses.

He needed a weapon, yesterday. His eyes glanced towards the small collection of tools in a small box tucked into the back of the trunk. Brian was somewhat in luck as he reached in and pulled out a crowbar. It was hefty and a little unwieldy, but at least he was armed. "Worked for Gordon Freeman, at least." While standing up the merc shut the trunk, glancing around the area. Something was wrong, and he needed to find Krystal.

Brian took off down the path but didn't get far before a shout caught his ears. "_You! Hold it!_" He wasn't about to stop for anything, until he got some cover at least. A strange zapping, hissing noise came after the voice and the merc hit the dirt. A silver beam of some sort sailed overhead, colliding with the ground several feet away. Even from that distance the hair on his arms stood straight up as if he had been thrown into an industrial-sized dryer.

He jumped up and dashed off to the side, catching a glipmse of his assailant as he went. The figure was dressed in some sort of red armor, tightly adhered to its body. The creature looked like a walking, talking monkey... if Krystal resembled a fox, the guy shooting at him looked like a monkey. However the situation looked pretty bleak to him. Brian was armed with a crowbar and his opponent had some sort of laser rifle.

The former Marine decided that if he was going down, the enemy would remember it. A clump of boulders stood twenty feet in front of him, which he hoped would provide adequate cover. He ran in a zigzag pattern, trying to throw the enemy's aim off... it worked. Several silver bolts slammed into the dirt and trees around him yet none hit before he dove behind the boulder.

"_Persistent alien pest!"_ The simian sounded pretty ticked off, and Brian was sure that he wasn't going to have a good day, after all. He crouched behind the boulder, gripping the crowbar in his right hand. His ears struggled to make out the sounds of his opponent's boots crunching on the gravel path, trying to figure out where they were coming from. The boulders around him made it difficult, and he wasn't able to pinpoint the sound. He crouched, trying to cover every direction at once.

Brian didn't have to wait long. The monkey in red armor passed one of those boulders and the merc sprung into action. The simian had little time to react as the human swung the crowbar with all his might... and the tool simply bounced off the armor. The force of the blow caused him to curse and swing the rifle around. The move was countered by the crowbar slamming onto the barrel, knocking it out of the monkey's hands.

Brian snarled as he brought the crowbar back for another blow... until he caught the sound of gravel crunching behind him. He ran out of luck as the second Venom soldier reached him, his stunner rifle already on a perfect arc with the back of his head. Brian saw a bright white flash before his eyes and a sharp pain strike the side of his head before everything fuzzed out and faded to black.

-------------------------------

The ballroom was full of chairs, some pulled out of neighboring bars and facilities on the derelict ship, others pulled out of unused staterooms. This was the staging area for the _Black Strike_ special operations unit. Once funded by a complex network of CIA shell companies, the recent history of the unit was a story which would have had government conspiracy theorists and political watchdog groups crying out for blood.

Eighty of some of Earth's best trained and equipped covert warriors filled the room. Coming from practically every walk of life, the men and women were among the most hardened soldiers from their respective services, and it showed by the level of discipline they showed while waiting for their commander. There was no hushed whispering or gossip; they stood next to their seats, awaiting a silent nod as an order to sit.

They did not have to wait long. A tall, burly man strode into the room, dressed in the same black fatigues they were clad in. His standard sidearm, an HK MK23, was holstered on his right hip. The big handgun made him look like some sort of third world dictator, although his features proclaimed otherwise.

Major Grant Callahan was never an attractive man. Widely-spaced eyes and a nose that had been broken many times in the scrapes he got into as a kid made sure of that even before his disfigurement. Now his lower face was a mass of scar tissue, a thin line bisecting part of it the only sign he had lips. His nose was now quite deformed; between the old badges of backalley boxing matches and the effects of a Cerinian staff it looked as if it had almost melted from his face. The scarring continued down his neck, although his Nomex clothing had prevented further damage.

"At ease, soldiers." Callahan's voice was raspy and gravelly; a natural quality made worse by badly-healed vocal cords. Part of him hated addressing his command because of this.. the night raid he had been wounded on was something he thought about constantly. He couldn't keep his mind off the botched operation; looking in the mirror each morning brought memories of the pain and humiliation.

The sight of his covert warriors almost simultaneously taking their seats brought his mind out of the past. Grant had a briefing to give, and time was almost about to run out. "Now, as you know, there have been... complications in our 'benefactor's' attempt at providing us this... mobile base. I'm not going to sugarcoat this shit. Apparently Meran lost quite a bit of his focus and other shit slipped through his teleportation spell, other than this ship."

A hand was raised and Callahan glanced over. One of his lieutenants, the 'new' one. Jack Hilman had caught wind of their escape from Earth while they begun their association with the Cerinian in the first place. Hilman had been instrumental in clearing away a few Marine patrols from discovering their hiding place... at least until Meran had collected them. Grant always wondered what Hilman's reason for accompanying them really was but he respected his subordinates' privacy, at least to an extent. "Sir." Hilman stood up as Callahan nodded at him. "I know this explains the fact we had to take care of the passengers on this ship, but there are other factors that Meran has recently told me about."

"And what is this, lieutenant?" Callahan's curiosity was piqued. Drumming the fingers of his right hand upon the oak podium he stood at, the major waited for the report.

"Apparently, sir, the passengers were not all that Meran accidentally carried through. He now has a group of Serbian terrorists working for him... right in view of General Scales himself. From what I have gathered, he has them looking for the missing Haleth girl... it's probably an attempt to eliminate her before the Venom forces find her, sir." Jack inwardly steeled himself. Callahan's hatred for that Cerinian girl was personal. Considering she was the one who had literally scarred him for life, he wasn't surprised. Yet, he knew what this would mean for _Black Strike._

Callahan's eyes narrowed. "Is this true, Jack?" At Hilman's nod, his hands gripped the podium. "Meran promised the little blue bitch for me and me alone. Since he has reneged on this deal, I think it might be time to accelerate his campaign. He's too arrogant and cautious for his own good. Isn't that right, men?" He glanced towards his soldiers. They didn't need to shout; a simple nod towards him had the same effect. "Kramer."

A voice from the audience carried out. "Yes, sir?" Rudy Kramer was his chief intelligence man; he had been able to work out the various comm gear the Venom troops they were poised against used. What the various menagerie of sentient animals did not know was that their communications were being listened to. Every battle plan they had_ Black Strike_ knew. While the Venom Imperial Army had the ex-CIA black ops unit well outnumbered, the covert team had surprise on their side.

"Is their battleship safely out of the way yet?" A nod from Kramer was good news, and Callahan had reason to celebrate. "Well, some good tidings are upon us, men. Start getting yourselves prepped. Knocking out their communicat ions is the first priority. As long as they don't know who hit them at their base, we'll be able to keep in the dark. With three months to kick their asses and prepare, we should be able to take over this fucking rock before they come back."

Hilman shook his head, a sign of mild dissent toward his commanding officer. Callahan glared at him. "What is it, Jack?" The glare, combined with his ruined face was a very imposing sight few dared stand up to. Jack Hilman was one of those few.

"What about Meran, sir? He does have the ability to send us back to Earth... or worse. I don't think I need to remind everyone that you guys were mere days away from having another COG team take you off the playing field... for good." Jack had a point and he had to make it. Since he was the primary liason to the Cerinian, he knew very well that if they screwed up it would be their asses on the line. Hell, getting sent back to Earth would be the least of their worries. They could hold out against the Venom troops currently on the planet, possibly even win. But if that battleship came back everyone knew they would be screwed.

"Once he finds out that we managed to get the Venomites out of the way, then he will be more than free to get us out into the open. Scales doesn't know he's just a lackey, and thinking that his 'army' of lizards armed with sticks and rocks can take us out is laughable." Grant chuckled; the laughter sounding much like it would have come from a nightmarish clown. "Sending us back would be a very stupid move on his part. Ill-trained terrorists won't have near the chance that _Black Strike_ does, and he knows it."

A murmur of agreement went up from the troops, and Hilman was pretty much outvoted. The covert ops team would see action a lot sooner than Meran suspected, and even he couldn't stop them. Callahan looked to Hilman, and shook his head. "Well, since you seem so eager for us to take baby steps, I think you should lead one of the objective teams on the first raid. You and Markinson, meet me in my office." The scarred commander glanced over his team, taking stock of the hardened soldiers he led. "The rest of you, gear up. Team assignments will be up shortly. If you want to volunteer to see some action today, talk to your CO. This is going to take brains as well as balls, so make sure you bring both. Dismissed, men."


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes:**

**I profusely apologize for the sheer amount of time it's taken since the last update. I've been screwing around with other things as well as concentrating on later chapters... writer's block nailed me big time on this one, not just life issues. The good news is that I have at least come content in the next _three_ chapters after this one. Chapter 17's actually been complete for about a month, but I'll work on some finishing touches. This one's light on the action, but the next few will make up for that in spades. **

**Now, I'm considering adding a 'tech' section to these notes every time I update a chapter. This means that I will write about one specific technological gadget I've mentioned in the story... no matter if it's of Lylat, Venom, Cerinian or even human origin. So, if you want to know the nitty gritty details on anything specific I've written about, give me a review or a PM on what you want to hear about... and this means anything as long as it doesn't spoil later plot aspects. But, if you're curious about anything I've written about thus far, ask me about it... first one gets it mentioned in the next chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 16: Escape.

_The M14 slammed against his shoulder as Brian continued to fire. The tan-robed figures emerged from the sand like avenging angels borne from the earth itself; the scene that played out was complete chaos. He saw one of the men he had targeted go down... then stand up again._

_The young Marine grit his teeth as he took cover, the rattle of their opponents' AK47s driving the eight-man fireteam to take cover. One of the Marines wasn't so lucky; his body cut down by a burst of bullets. Even their armor wouldn't stop their fire.The only way out was to shoot their way out._

_Brian shouldered his rifle once more, planting the red-dot sight upon the chest of one of the figures and fired again. The result was the same; the man fell to the ground and stood up again. Were they wearing armor? He decided to try another tactic and aimed for the head. The next shot put the enemy down, permanently._

_"They've got some damn good armor, guys!" he shouted. "Aim for the head if you can!" The Marine repeated his tactic, targeting another robed attacker's head and firing. The high-power 7.62mm round the M14 fired was a rather potent cartridge, but there was armor that could defeat it. The insurgents they were facing were well-equipped._

_Lieutenant Hilman was crouched down next to him, seemingly firing his weapon at random. Brian noticed he was missing the targets he was shooting at, or winging one in the armor every so often. The M4 Carbine he carried fired a 5.56mm round that carried a lot less punch, especially against armor. He figured that his CO was missing due to combat jitters, but... he didn't have time to concentrate on his comrade's marksmanship. Brian targeted another insurgent and fired._

_"Got one!" A voice from his left exclaimed. Rico Morales, his squad machine-gunner, was pouring the fire down on one quadrant... one the insurgents wisely avoided. The four remaining Marines continued to fire, but they were quickly being overwhelmed._

_Brian glanced through his sight once more to see one of the insurgents waving a hand signal... one he didn't recognize. He heard Hilman roll away to his right, and a brief sensation of puzzlement come over him. What was he doing, breaking formation?_

_The young Marine never answered that question... three egg-shaped grenades flashed in the intense desert sun and rolled down into the embankment they were hiding behind. None of them had time to react before they went off. Brian's world turned white and faded..._

* * *

...into light. He was awake, but with a headache that made the hangover he remembered having last morning seem like a pleasant experience. It was bright, and he was staring upward at some sort of light. Everything was bathed in white, and he idly wondered where he was. He wasn't entirely sure what happened. Everything was a blur. Was he being... chased before this?

"Are you awake?" A voice. That one came from behind, and he something fuzzy wrap over his wrist. "Your pulse is normal. Can you hear me?" Brian nodded, shutting his eyes to ward off the bright light.

"Where the hell is this?" he asked, muttering his response to the world. "What's going on?" He was confused, but he needed to get some answers. Things were starting to come back to him; the monkey in red armor and grabbing the crowbar out of the Legend... was he hit afterwards?

"You're in a Venom infirmary.. we're both prisoners here." The figure tending to him moved into the light, allowing Brian to see who was helping him out. The figure was another one of those talking animals; this time a tan-colored fox with impossibly large ears... he was wearing an olive drab jumpsuit with various patches upon it.. looked like a military uniform. "I'm Matthew Phoenix, Cornerian Defence Force, Signals Division." He held out a paw, which Brian shook. "Who're you?"

Brian was a little pleased to note his fellow captive seemed to be military... if the chance to escape came up, at least this Matthew fellow would be able to watch himself. "Brian Lancing. Former US Marine, now a merc." With a grunt he sat up, realizing he was on a stretcher. This was not looking good, at all. The stretcher aside, the room was completely bare; he had a feeling that it had been hastily cleared out for them.

"You're one of them, right? The other mercs?" Matthew asked, his gaze falling onto the door. He had a sneaking feeling that this alien was the one the others had been looking for. He looked like he had been through more than a scrape, but his line of thought was cut off by Brian's surprised exclaimation.

"Waitasec... Ron and Sergey? Are they here?" Brian slid off the gurney and checked himself. Other than the scabbed-over gashes, a knot on his head and a decent headache, he was fine. Especially so considering he had a chance to link up with the rest of the team... the three of them could help Krystal out as soon as they got their hands on some firepower.

Matt shook his head, which caused the merc to scowl. "No... we were attacked by another group of your kind. Before the Venom troops hauled me off here, it looked like they were negotiating something." The fennec absentmindedly scratched the tip of his ear. "I think he was named Sawsba or something?"

"Sazbo? That bastard!" Brian grit his teeth and growled, causing Matthew to take a step back. "Just great... I've gotta deal whth his ass, too." He moved amasingly quickly for being in such pain, his mind racing "There's gotta be a way out of this."

Matt shook his head, casting his glance to the door. "Even though the Venomites haven't had the time to build a proper prison, this place is well guarded. They've got someone in critical condition right here." He shrugged. "I don't know who she is, but she's really damn valuable if they have four guards looking after her."

The merc paused a bit, thinking a little bit. "Uhm, was she blue?" Something didn't sound right... he was hoping Krystal was at least fine. If she was in bad shape, he wasn't sure they could even make it out of here. They would have to try, though.

The fennec nodded. "Yeah. Vixen, golden top and loincloth, with a deep blue dye job? I don't think she's going to make it. I'm sorry... she caught a stun blast to the back of her neck. Nasty way to go." He sighed and continued to look at the door.

Brian grit his teeth again, his eyes closing. "She's my way home, and I've gotta make sure she keeps breathing. And, we gotta get out of here. Now." Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Matt. He whispered, and very quickly. "I got an idea. Follow my lead."

Matthew had no time to react as Brian's expression filled with hatred. Even on the alien's face it was frightening. "You furball freak! I'm going to fucking kill you!" His voice was bellowing out the insult as loud as it could, and Matt quickly got the hint.

"Not if I do it first, you hairless ape!" Matt nodded with a grin and grabbed the stretcher, slamming it forward into the door with a sharp _bang_. He could already hear rushed footsteps towards the door, and both of them were ready, grabbing hold of the stretcher as the door burst open.

The Venom soldier that rushed in was carrying a stun baton and was dressed in a standard red Venom military jumpsuit... which wasn't armored in the slightest. As the coyote rushed in he was greeted by the human and fennec... shoving the stretcher at him with all their strength. It caught him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him and sending the stun baton clattering to the floor.

Brian wasted no time, snatching the baton up and pushing forward, slamming a blow upon the hapless soldier's head. He was surprised to see the baton was powered, somehow... the zapping sound and the coyote convulsing on the floor was a welcome side-effect. Both Matt and Brian rushed out of the room and into the main infirmary, and were greeted with a strange sight.

Krystal was sprawled on a table in the center, one paw gripped around a very ornate-looking staff of some sort and tied down to it rather securely... _'lest she wakes up_..._'_ ran through Brian's mind. She was hooked up to various medical equipment, most of which he couldn't even remotely recognize. Three figures in lab coats were around her, glancing up at the two prisoners with a mixture of shock and alarm in their expressions. The merc wasted no time; he was already closing in with the stun baton at the ready.

The first labcoat-wearing figure was a tall, lithe feline with red fur. He had shoved a paw inside the pocket of his coat as Brian reached him, the stun baton slamming against his temple. The cat cried out as the electric shock dropped him. Brian was already on the move again, approaching the second scientist.

Matt wasn't standing idle, either. The third scientist, this one a vulpine, had tried to reach the intercom unit but met up with the agile fennec. Matt kicked out at the other fox, his boot-clad foot slamming into the scientist's stomach and sending him crashing down. Matt took his chance and dove onto him, slamming his fists wherever he could.

The scientist that Brian cornered trembled at the expression the alien gave him. The young hog didn't want any trouble, and he also didn't want to end up stunned... or pummeled. "I... I give up!" he stuttered, and Brian grabbed him by the lapels of his lab coat.

"You're going to tell me how to move her safely, and you're going to tell me how to get out of here quickly and quietly." Brian growled and shook the pig around a bit, mainly for effect. "Otherwise, I'm going to kill you, and I'm going to do it painfuly. Got me?" Brian glanced up and noticed two sets of double doors on opposite walls from each other. One was labeled '_Xenotechnology._' That alone drew his interest, but they had to get out of there and pronto.

Matt walked up to them, blood flowing from his nose... it looked like he caught an errant fist from the Venom scientist he had put down. "There aren't any guards here, strangely. Suppose they've been called away from other duties?"

The pig trembled in Brian's grasp and nodded. "We had it from here, and we needed to stabilize the Cerinian channeler. We need to keep her alive until the ritual, but..." He was cut off as Brian gave him another violent shake.

"Answer my question, dammit! How do we get out of here unnoticed?" The former Marine was getting pissed off, and very quickly at that. A quick idea came through his mind and he glanced over to Matt. "Figure you can get into that guard's uniform?"

Matt scratched his chin. "I can try at least... you want me to pose as a guard and lead you two out of here, right?" At Brian's nod he ran back to the makeshift prison cell. Grabbing the stunned coyote, he began the task of removing his jumpsuit.

The pig closed his eyes. "Take a right at the hallway past the doors, then an immediate left. Then you'll walk right outside, into the blizzard! There's even ships there... just, don't hurt me!" He cringed and cowered away as Brian let him go... yet the merc wasn't going to take any chances. The stun baton was thrust into the hog's ample belly, its victim falling to the ground and twitching uncontrollably."Damn wimp." He turned away from the fallen scientist and glanced at Krystal, taking a closer look.

The table she was on had a very large variety of medical equipment attached to it... he had no idea what half of it did. The machinery beeped, buzzed and hummed which he assumed was at least somewhat normal. The Cerinian was comatose and lashed to the table by thick leather straps and connected by various tubes and wires to the machinery, as well as a clear plastic mask placed around her muzzle. She looked like a patient in a screwed up medical drama, but he hoped she would make it.

A clattering noise behind him drew his attention... Matt pushed the stretcher towards the table, a grim look upon his features. The fennec was dressed in the guard's uniform and looked about as much as a Venom soldier as he could. "We need to move quickly, Brian. Give me a hand with some of this stuff?"

The fox started to move the medical equipment attached to Krystal's table to the stretcher. Brian nodded his assent and helped, surprised at how light the bulky boxes were. Brackets for the devices were already on the stretcher; everything was made to a modular size. These aliens had medical equipment down pat, he thought.

Once the equipment was safely on board the stretcher, Brian started removing the leather straps which held Krystal down.As he moved her arm, he noticed that she had a deathgrip on the staff... an almost indiscernable teal glow surrounding her paw. He almost sighed at the sight, but a tap on his shoulder got his attention. "You with me, man?" Matt inquired, moving to grasp the vixen's legs.

"Yeah. Let's get the fuck out of Dodge, eh?" Ignoring Matt's puzzled look, he scooped his arms around Krystal's shoulders, mindful of the tubes and hoses that surrounded her body. "On three. One. Two..."

"Three!" Brian and Matt spoke in unison as they gently lifted the comatose Cerinian and placed her upon the stretcher. Immediately afterwards, Matt ran to one of the supply bins and grabbed a thick blanket, which was settled over the stretcher. "Find a coat or something, quickly! This place is called the Darkice Mines for good reason; it's about as cold as a Fortunan winter. Never stops snowing here from as far as I've heard."

Brian nodded, taking a glance around for anything that resembled a coat. He was loathe to take a labcoat from one of the downed scientists; that would blow their cover wide open. His question was answered in a moments' search; he found his suit jacket stashed in a box... along with all his belongings. The merc found incredible irony in the fact that he now had plenty of ammunition and no gun to fire it. At least he had his keys, wallet, and multitool for all the good _that_ would do. As he slipped the coat on, he glanced at the fennec. "About as good as I'm going to get, man. Now, let's get out of this hellhole."

Matt grinned a bit, eager to get out of Venom clutches as well. "As long as we can find a ship, we're set. I might not be the best pilot out there, but I know a few tricks." He motioned to the stretcher Krystal was on, always keeping a wary glance toward the door. "We need to get out of here before the guards are alerted. Grab the stretcher, and I'll keep behind. I'm turning off the stun baton, but I've got to make this realistic if they start looking at us."

Brian sighed, nodding at the fennec as he grabbed a hold of the stretcher. The combined weight of the unconscious vixen as well as the miriad of medical equipment keeping her alive made it pretty heavy... but nothing unmanagable. Matt kept a close watch over the surroundings as they pushed the stretcher through the door... and into the corridors beyond.

The two made quick time, considering the fact they were breaking out of a somewhat secure facility. Brian was wondering why there was a marked lack of guards... if Krystal was really all that important to these Venom assholes, why didn't they have her --let alone them-- under much more lock and keep. It didn't make sense, unless...

Just then they were challenged as they were about to make a left turn towards the main entrance to what Brian assumed was a massive cave complex. Four troopers in the same red jumpsuits Matt now wore seemingly materialized from the shadows, strange laser pistols held in their hands. Brian tried to look inconspicuous, defeated... but was steeling himself for a confrontation... one he wasn't sure he was going to win.

"Halt!" The lead guard snapped, motioning to Matt. "Where are you taking these prisoners... especially the channeler?" He cast a suspicious gaze toward the fennec, who glanced up at him. He had to think fast, so there went nothing.

"The channeler has been stabilized for the ritual, sir. I was ordered to take her to a transport craft to take her where she's supposed to end up." Matt noticed the others are looking towards Brian. "I was also told that he's to accompany her, and will be... dealt with later." He managed the best evil grin he could... which seemed to appease the lead guard.

"Well, the raw recruit gets to have a little fun, doesn't he?" The guard chided, poking Matt in the shoulder. "Guess you might deserve a promotion for babysitting that alien ass, too!" With a quick laugh he pointed out the large entrance to the cavern. Brian snuck a quick glance... the fennec hadn't been lying. The raging storm outside neared whiteout conditions. He spotted several dark, hulking shapes in the background... he hoped to God they were unlocked spaceships so they could get the hell out of there. With a quick pat that almost bordered on being friendly, the Venom guard motioned Matthew to the mouth of the cavern they were in. "Good luck... and by the way, make it hurt. Corporal Simmons almost got his head bashed in by that one, and I'm sure he'd buy you a drink from the commisary if you tell him the story."

Matthew chuckled, trying to play his part to the hilt. "I will be sure to do that, sir. He'll owe me two after I'm done with this alien scum." The fennec chuckled as he pushed Brian forward, sending him out into the storm. The entrance was 'sealed' with a light forcefield, mainly to keep blowing snow out and precious heat in. As they made their way into the storm, the sudden shock of the wind and chill took their breath away. Matt was protected by his fur and a somewhat padded jumpsuit, but Brian's torn and stained business suit wasn't cutting it very well. He was shivering instantly.

"Jesus Christ." the merc spat. "I know you warned me, but if it gets any damn colder I'm going to be thinking about taking a vacation to someplace warm... like fuckin' Antarctica." He struggled with the stretcher, a moment's worry given about Krystal. He hoped she would survive this ordeal; she was his only way out of this screwed-up place. "You better have a ship in mind, or we're going to turn into popsicles out here."

"Cool it, Brian." Matt hissed, trying to peer through the blizard ahead. "If they hear you, we're going to have a squad of Eradicators breathing up our tails pretty quick. I don't know about you, but I'd rather stay away from facing blasters while unarmed." He spotted a suitable ship, or at least he thought so. Looked like a Venom _Eraser_-class troop transport to his eyes. "I found one. Third one past us on the right. Let's move it." The fennec tugged Brian's shoulder, marching him and Krystal's stretcher off in that direction.

Brian struggled to see even ten yards in front of him. He was expecting another squad of troopers to materialize any moment... wondering of his new comrade's chiding had been too late. He fervently wished for a weapon... a gun, knife, anything. Even one of those strange laser weapons the guards carried would have been adequate. The merc compensated his being unarmed by pushing faster; the ship materializing out of the blizzard in front of them.

Matt got the hint and kept pace, finally reaching the ship. Troop transports were seldom locked down, especially in a 'hot' situation... the quicker you could get troops on the scene the better, and all the rigamamarole with locking codes and hierarchy was thrown out the window... especially in a desolate place like this. He guided the human and the stretcher he was pushing to the entrance ramp. They had to make this quick. Matt reached for the control panel inset next to the ramp, punching a few buttons. The main doors opened with a hiss... the ramp extending soon afterward. "Hurry!" he urged. "We need to get this heap into open space before they find out we're gone!"

Brian didn't need any encouragement. He was already pushing Krystal's stretcher up the ramp as Matt was talking. The warm air from inside engulfed him, helping to ease the chill of the Arctic-like conditions he just ran through. Taking a moment he glanced at the construction of the transport... figuring out its layout just in case.

The compartment he was in looked eerily similar to a C130's main hold. Two rows of seats ran up and down the sides of the craft... he guessed it could hold at least fifty soldiers, as well as some heavy equipment. He was impressed, but he was looking harder at trying to find a secure place for Krystal. Out iin the open like this wasn't a good place.

Matt bounded up the ramp, shutting the main doors as he got to the top. It had been a while since he had studied Venom spacecraft... ironically enough the entire intelligence division held the class inside his father's private museum. Space Dynamics was one of the leading spacecraft manufacturers in the Lylat System, and had the clout to get a copy of pretty much anything the Venom Empire had manufactured... for research purposes, of course. The troop compartment was the main part of the ship, but the command and control section was just beyond. Considering the compartment itself was well-armored, they might be able to withstand an assault if they got boarded. "Get her to the forward doors. I'll open it." Matt went to the door controls as Brian wheeled Krystal towards the shut portal.

With a sigh the merc tugged the blanket off of Krystal. She stil remained motionless, and he allowed a hand to drift to her neck, running through her fur to attempt to get her pulse. It was faint, but at least she was still alive. '_Alive and about to get off this rock'_, he reminded himself. They had made it. All they needed to do was take off and they were free... at least free until they figured out how to get him home... and then he would come back for Ron and Sergey.

The thick, gunmetal doors slid open, Matt motioning them inside. Brian happily obliged, glancing about what looked to be the ship's bridge. The controls looked for all the world much like a 747's cockpit... two seats with what he assumed were flight controls... and a lot of buttons, dials, and switches he wouldn't have a clue how to operate. "Uhm... you _do _know how to fly this tub, do you?"

The fennec nodded. "I was in the cockpit even when I was a little kid. My sister had the aptitude as a good pilot, but our dad taught both of us how to pilot a spacecraft. I'm no Arwing jockey like Fara, but I'm good enough I could be a commercial pilot if I get out of the military." With a chuckle he shut the doors, sliding into the pilot's seat as if he truly owned the transport.

"Wouldn't seem like a bad idea, considering what's going on here." Brian mused, pushing Krystal's stretcher out of the way of the doors. His thoughts went to arming themselves, and that was the basis of his next question... his eyes peering out the cockpit windows to the raging blizzard outside. "Now... they wouldn't happen to have a weapons locker here, would they? Laser guns might be a little out of place for me, but if it shoots, I'll take it."

Matt turned towards Brian, shaking his head. "There might be, but you _really_ don't want to touch those. Venom soldiers have transponder chips inserted in the back of their necks during their basic training." He waved at the stun baton he carried, which was set next to the pilot's seat. "While stuff like these stun batons don't have the transponders, any blasters they carry usually do. And, if you're stupid enough to fire one when you don't have that chip in you... you're going to get zapped. Bad."

Brian sighed, leaning back against the bulkhead that seperated the cockpit from the main hold. "So, simply put... if they manage to board this craft we're fucked." A flicker of motion at the edge of his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned to glance over to Krystal's still form. He was seeing things... had she tried to lift her arm? Even to someone as oblivious to medical procedures as he was, it seemed impossible.

Matt nodded to Brian's question. "Well, the bulkhead on this model is made of some damn good armor... it would take anti-Landmaster lasers or rockets to punch through. In those cases we'd all be dead." He motioned to Krystal, and noticed Brian glancing at her. "With her up here it's a safe bet they wouldn't resort to it. And... if we get out into open space all I'd have to do is depressurize the cabin." He shrugged at that. "Not something I'd be proud to do, but... wait a minute." He stopped his pre-flight check to concentrate on the vixen. He swore he saw her try to move her arm. "Uhm... I think she's moving." With that he got up, moving to check on the comatose vixen.

Brian leaned in closer, a look of curiosity apparent on his features. Matt started scanning the medical equipment underneath her stretcher, and glanced up at him. "I'm seeing increased brain activity... her pulse is getting better. This is insane... brain stem disruptment from a stun rifle is fatal in ninety-six percent of cases... and a full recovery even if one does survive is unheard of. She's a damn lucky vixen, Brian."

The merc nodded, keeping a closer eye on Krystal. She was definitely trying to move, her arm twitching ever so perceptibly. Then, with a speed that surprised even his seasoned experience, her paw shot out, grasping his wrist. Her grip was weak, but it was enough to hold onto him and get his attention. As he looked on, her eyes fluttered open... slowly. "B...brian." Her voice was choked and raspy, muffled almost to an untelligable noise through the mask she wore. "Help..."

The former Marine waved Matt aside, moving closer to the vixen's side. Like it or not, she was his lifeline here, and his only lead on getting back home. He was going to have to help, no matter the consequences. "I'm here, Krystal. We're safe, and about to leave this frozen hellhole. Just hold on, alright?"

"N...no." the vixen urged, attempting to squeeze his wrist a little harder. "Don't... leave." Even the effort needed to speak exhausted her... she gasped a few breaths before continuing. "Please. Spellstone... here." Her paw lost its grip on him, her arm now danging off the side of the stretcher. "Use... staff. Get it." She paused again, taking several seconds to just lay there and gather up her energy. She lifted her other arm, pointing her staff towards him. "Please... you must..." Before she could continue she slumped back, her eyes sliding shut... allowing the welcome abyss of unconsciousness to take her.

Brian took a deep breath, sliding the staff from her limp paw. "Christ. Don't tell me I've gotta go back there." He glanced toward the door, gripping the stff with a nervous hand. "It's a damn suicide mission, and all I've got to do it with is a glorified stick."

Matt glanced to the medical monitors that were hooked up to Krystal, only afterwards grabbing her arms and moving her to a more comfortable position. "Well, if it's that important to her, it might stop the Venom advance on Sauria. I've never heard of this Spellstone, but if it's going to hurt 'em to lose it, it's worth the risk."

"She said something to me earlier about these 'spellstones' that held the planet together... whatever the hell that meant." Brian mused. "I'm not too happy going back out there, but if I have to, I have to." He motioned to the door of the troop transport. "Just make sure you keep your ass locked up in here. I'm not sure how I'll get a hold of you when this is done, but I'll find a way."

"Wait a minute, man." Matt held up a paw, the tawny-furred fennec getting an idea. "There's gotta be one around here..." he mumbled as he searched a few small equipment bins near the cockpit controls. "Aha! Here's one!" He tossed a small object at Brian, which looked all the world like a hands-free Bluetooth cell phone headset.

Brian fumbled with the 'headset' for a bit. The 'hook' that normally went around the ear was extremely large and flexable, which he assumed was for a larger, more fox-like ear such as Matt's or Krystal's. However, he managed to fit it in place... a decent fit considering it was meant for an alien fox... or so he assumed. "I take it this is a communications handset?" he asked.

Matt nodded. "Exactly... wasn't expecting that response this quickly." Evading a scowl from the former Marine, he punched a few buttons on the cockpit control panel. "I'm a comm expert. I can get a good encrypted link across and scan the Venom local tac-net... keep you posted on if they're alerted to your presence." He punched a few more buttons, his fingers dancing upon the controls as if he were playing a grand piano. "Now... we need to keep chatter to a minimum. It's encrypted, but they will know something's up if they catch wind of a mysterious encrypted comm line open."

Brian nodded. "Got it. So, call only if needed, and you'll keep me up to date on any revelations I need to know, right?" As Matt nodded, he approached the door. "So, let me out and I'll try to play spy. I hope to God I don't get caught... I've got a major bad feeling about this."

Matt shrugged, punching the door release button. "Well, if you bite it I'm going to take off without you. I'm sorry for being that callous, but I want to live to see my sister... and I think your vixen here deserves a shot at making it out of here, too." As Brian exited the door, he turned to the fox... giving a curt nod as his only reply before venturing forth into the wastes.

* * *

The two figures lay at the edge of the 'airfield' out in the middle of the blizzard. Their white parkas and cold weather gear kept them relatively comfortable in the frigid temperatures. However, they were constantly on the lookout through their sniper scopes. It was only by sheer luck that Brian and Matt had chose one of two ships they had no direct sight on... they had missed the two figures pushing a stretcher into the craft, and one of them emerge back out. Had they spotted them... the outcome of the next two hours would had been played out quite differently. Yet, even through their vigilant watch the mercenary's movements went unnoticed. One of them reached for the button to activate his radio.

"Recon Unit to Alpha and Gamma Teams. Insertion pathways clear. You are clear to begin operation."


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes: Well, since I had this chapter pretty much completed before the last(I worked on this one to get past some of my previous writer's block) this was going to be a quick update. I'm starting to speed up the action a little bit; unfortunately it's a little hard for me to condense a bit. This is another pretty long one, and the next few are going to be pretty lengthy as well. Expect lots of plot resolution in the next few. Now, for the traditional review responses:**

**Killr noob: I hear ya on picking up the pace. After I've finished what I have written things will start picking up. This is probably the reason I'm getting 'stuck' so often; I'm getting bogged down with minor details and am slowing down or stopping things outright.**

**Delta: Trust me... the Venomites feel some pain in this one. You will be pleased. :evil grin:**

**Yamagata: Wow... slow down dude, you're chomping at the bit. I definitely appreciate the flurry of reviews, but be patient.. I'm writing as much as I can push myself.**

**Northernmegas: Thanks! And, these guys aren't exactly newcomers, per se. You've read about them before. Beyond that, my lips are sealed. **

**Falcon: Congrats for being the first to give me some suggestions. I decided to include descriptions of both ships. I tried for a more 'technical' aspect to the descriptions, but it turned into more of a given history of them. It was interesting writing, and gave me a chance to brainstorm. I enjoyed it, and I managed to whip this up in about twenty minutes last night. Also, I'm still following your story with interest; my review will be on the way shortly. And, for a plug.. anyone reading and enjoying my story will like Tenth Circle. Trust me, it's really good.**

**PS: I'm still looking for other 'tech section' entries. I'll be writing some more random ones soon, but suggestions will always be bumped up to the top of the list.**

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**Tech Section:**

**Venom _Eraser_-class Troop Transport: Commisioned one year before the start of the Lylat War, the _Eraser-_class transports are a common symbol of Venom military power. Seldom seen outside of Venom Imperial forces or several highly-funded criminal enterprises, the craft is a simple yet robust design. Measuring ninety meters in length and fifteen meters wide, the _Eraser_ is designed for atmospheric assault landings in highly hostile dropzones. The craft is heavily protected against small arms fire and most anti-air rockets, although protection from fighters and other weapon-carrying spacecraft remains weak. The _Eraser_ dropship is capable of carrying a multitude of light air to ground weaponry, mainly to clear a dropzone for its occupants; anti-spacecraft weaponry is not available for the model. The dropship can carry a maximum of fifty fully armed Venom soldiers. An alternate configuration is comprised of thirty troopers with two Stinger assault hovercraft; usually one out of three _Erasers_ in an assault force is so equipped.**

**The _Eraser _is not Slipspace-capable, and lacks long-range communications equipment. The dropships are spaceflight-capable, however, and can easily do runs to an orbital command platform or a planet's moon. For long-range transit a capital ship with a large docking bay is required.**

**XXX XXX**

**Galand Shipyards _Vucsed_ Shuttle: Galand's entry into the luxury spacecraft market was quite rocky, even with as solid of a product as the _Vucsed._ Originally built as a bid on a Cornerian Diplonatic Corps contract for a personal ambassador spacecraft, the _Vucsed_ was destined to obscurity by the Corps' selection of the Space Dynamics _Kestrel_-class shuttle... a more fuel efficent and cheaper model. Galand only produced 3,500 _Vucseds_, most being purchased by private individuals; a few fleets were purchased by large companies for corporate transport. Production ended three years before the Lylat War began and most _Vucsed_ craft were retrofitted into combat spacecraft by the Cornarian Defense Corps as a last-ditch effort to defend their holdings. As a result, most of these fine luxury craft were reduced to atoms by Venom lasers. As such, original, good-condition shuttles are highly coveted by collectors.**

**Most of the spacecraft on Cerinia were in fact _Vucsed_ shuttles. Trade to the mysterious planet outside of the Lylat system was officially banned, yet a few brave groups of traders soon found their way to the planet. Outside of Lylat influence, the Cerinians were socially advanced and some of their population were skilled in telepathic and other magical arts... yet their raw technology was sorely lacking. The traders took advantage of this, selling the mysterious vulpines luxury goods for exorbitant prices. One band in particular had purched a former corporate fleet of _Vucsed_ craft to sell to the Cerinians. The _Vucsed_ Krystal escaped Cerinia with was one of these craft.**

**The _Vucsed _ is Slipspace-capable, yet due to its status as a civilian luxury craft is completely unarmed. The shuttle is sixty meters long by fifteen meters wide, and sports a powerful thruster package, making the ungainly-looking ship rather maneuverable in atmospheric conditions. Its normal space performance is decent but not overly impressive. The interior, however, is opulently outfitted with what was at the time state of the art convienience equipment, a fully operational gourmet-quality kitchen, and personal restrooms with spa-quality appointments. Even by current Lylat luxury standards, the _Vucsed_'s living quarters rivals most luxury cruise liner staterooms.**

* * *

Chapter 17: Infiltration

Brian sighed as he crept along the rough stone corridors of the Venom Army's makeshift base. He had wanted to get out of here, but with Krystal pretty much in an coma and with Matthew watching over her and their getaway ride, he was the only one able to go back in and retrieve that stone.

To top it off, he was pretty much unarmed. He gripped Krystal's staff in his hands. While she thought it was something of great power and importance, he didn't see much of it other than a beat-em stick. It would do until he found something else, but Matt's warning was going to be followed. He wouldn't be doing any of them much good if he was taken out of the fight by a laser gun's security system.

He stopped for a moment at a dark intersection... the lighting was pretty poor and there were plenty of places to hide. For a moment he was reminded of the tumble of broken buildings he had faced in numerous conflicts; Baghdad in particular. The place was a nightmare; shadowy corners and plenty of people more than willing to put a bullet in you if given half a chance. However, this time the shadows were working for him, allowing him to dodge a few patrols.

The layout was confusing, however he made his way back to the infirmary section. He had a hunch, and the 'Xenotechnology' wing seemed like a good place to start. A quick glance at his scarred Timex showed that only fifteen minutes had passed since they had stunned the medical staff there. With luck they were still unconscious and nobody was checking up on them.

Approaching footsteps caused the former Marine to duck into an alcove. Five soldiers strode down the corridor, all armed with strange laser guns. He noticed two wolves, a monkey, a feline, and a lizard. He almost chuckled as he saw that... for all the world he never thought he would be hiding from creatures that looked like they spawned from a nightmarish Disney cartoon.

As they passed he slowly crept out into the open, keeping an eye on their retreating backs as he slid into the infirmary. When he entered, he noticed that all three scientists were still on the ground and unmoving. Their ruse had worked, at least. Now, he had the time to go exploring.

Passing all the medical equipment, he pushed open the door leading to the lab. The place was even darker than the rest of the complex... apparently they were trying to conserve power. He had no idea what these guys' idea of a light switch looked like, so he left the door open and squinted at what lay within.

Several large benches with stools were set up in the place, some with large objects set on them. Upon further inspection, they looked like chunks of a car. In fact, he spotted what looked to be an engine on one and two aluminum wheels on another... as well as a half-stripped chassis sitting on a platform in the middle of the room. Brian almost thought they had snagged the Legend on their way out of Thorntail Hollow when he noticed the car was a sedan of some sort.

Creeping into the room, Brian kept on glancing around. The bumper was the next thing he came across... and what he found was surprising. The front fascia was adorned with the unmistakable quad interlinked rings off the Audi logo. To top it off, the Swiss plates and the several bullet holes in it told him only one thing.

"Matt was right... Sazbo himself. Fuckin' A." Brian sighed. Part of him wanted to disbelieve the story he had been told, but apparently Sergey and Ron were working along with Sazbo... to whatever ends the Serbian had here. This didn't bode well for him. However, another idea came to his mind and he approached the car.

The Venom guys were taking the car apart systematically, starting from the front and going towards the rear. Apparently their scientists were more interested in finding out how a car worked than they were anything else... the big V8 was sitting dismantled on several tables and piles of what looked like technical notes surrounded it and the transmission. Half the sheet metal was stripped, but with luck they hadn't gotten around to mucking about in the interior yet.

Brian crept to the door, opening it and peering into the almost pitch-black interior. They had worked with Sazbo for three months; enough to know some of his tricks. He reached inside the rear passenger area and after some fiddling the rear seat cushion was pulled out of the car and deposited on the ground. Sazbo was a gun runner, and since he was going after them he _had_ to have been armed for bear. Brian was right as he glanced in the custom-fabricated compartment under the seat... he had hit paydirt.

He reached into the car and extracted a long black bag. Zipping it open, he was pleased to find the familiar profile of a Dragunov SVD sniper rifle resting within. While completely impractical in close quarters the Dragunov had some serious reach. The PSO-P scope mounted on it would make distance shooting easy. Quickly, he scavenged the bag and found ten extra magazines for the weapon... Sazbo's philosophy was to carry as many rounds as possible. He stuffed his pockets full, but he was going to search some more.

Another large bag was nestled below the one he had stored the Dragunov in... apparently Sazbo had the car modified so that he had hidden storage space... the tradeoff was probably a smaller gas tank; something that was common with drug and gun runners. Apparently Sazbo and his cronies had left the car in a hurry, because there was still a good deal of firepower left within.

Slinging the Dragunov over his shoulder, Brian set the bag on a nearby bench and unzipped it. Two other firearms lay within, patiently waiting his examination. The pistol he slid out was a Makarov PMM, the regular Russian service pistol. Its 9x18mm cartridge wasn't all that potent, but it beat having nothing. The handgun was in a thigh-mounted tactical holster, and was promptly added to his belt.

The last item he pulled out was icing on his cake. The AKM-S rifle he pulled out was attached to a tactical vest which he slipped on as soon as it came out of the bag. The assault rifle was a variant of the legendary AK47, equipped with a folding stock. While it didn't possess the accuracy the Dragunov did, it was an extremely effective close quarters lead-spitter. Brian counted eight extra magazines stuffed into the vest. The vest itself was actually rather heavy. In addition to a radio, knife, and a few magazines for the Makarov, he noticed that it was lined with Kevlar. It made for very low-grade armor, but it was protection nonetheless. Krystal's staff was added to a series of closures meant for holding a shotgun on the back of the vest... he was sure she wanted the staff back. What was interesting was that the staff automatically collapsed shut as he tucked it into its makeshift holster.

A scuffing noise from behind caught the merc's attention, and he immediately cursed his carelessness. Someone had snuck up behind him. He wasn't wanting to spoil the element of surprise by firing a gun, and his experiences with the stun baton had bolstered his confidence in using a blade. As he spun around he slid the knife out of its sheath on the vest, his eyes locking onto the scientist creeping his way towards him.

They had surprised each other. The scientist had been reasonably stealthy, but not enough to catch the experienced mercenary completely off guard. The scientist was armed with a syringe of phosphorescent purple liquid... Brian wasn't about to find out what the egghead wanted to inject him with. He held the Ka-Bar combat knife in front of him, expecting his alien profile in black tactical gear and enough guns to wage a one-man war to be sufficient enough to stop him in his tracks. Brian recognized him... it was the feline he had zapped with the baton on their way out of there.

The feline didn't stop, making a mad lunge towards Brian... who wasn't expecting the attack. In a moment's hesitation the scientist attempted to bury the syringe in his chest. The needle was made of stern stuff and stood a chance of penetrating the Kevlar lining, but instead it hit one of the AK's magazines and broke with an audible snap.

Brian was pushed backwards by the scientist's tackle, but his recent experience coupled with training from both the Marines and Sergey kicked in. He used their momentum to his advantage, grabbing a hold of the scientist's white lab coat and flinging him away, crashing against the side of the torn-apart Audi. Brian held back for a second, but noticed the remains of the syringe rolling away from their conflict.

The scientist shoved a paw in his lab coat and came out with a gun. Brian's shock turned into action as he rushed forward, only then noticing that the cat had produced an actual handgun... not a laser pistol. He didn't have time to dwell on it as his left arm shot inwards, bringing the pistol off-target as the scientist pulled the trigger.

The blast in the confined space rung his ears, but Brian was far too used to that to notice. His right hand moved in for the kill, driving the combat knife into his assailant's chest. The look of shock on the cat's face was almost human; Brian felt a momentary pang of guilt surge through him as the feline gasped and gurgled, blood spitting out of his mouth as he slumped to the floor.

The merc heard other footsteps scuffling in, and he realized he had no time to feel sorry. The cat was still limply hanging onto the small handgun he had, which was added to his small arsenal. The pistol was more than likely something else lifted from the car. It was a compact weapon that looked like a Walther PPK, but he didn't know exactly what it was. However, it was what he had in his hand and he had to play the cards he was dealt.

Several armored figures burst into the dark room, armed with strange-looking laser carbines. Brian aimed the tiny sights towards one's chest and fired, his right hand already placing the bloody knife back into its sheath. The pistol cracked and bucked in his hand, the Venom soldier tumbling to the ground while screaming in agony. The others took cover as Brian laid down cover fire, the pistol sending its retort into the darkened lab. He was constantly in motion, sliding off to the right while his unoccupied arm readied the AKM... a much better weapon in this situation. When the pistol's slide locked back, he switched to the rifle...

* * *

Corporal James Cairnes of the Venom Imperial Guard's Red Storm division was having a very bad day starting now. Not only did the Cerinian channeler needed to resurrect Andross vanish from under their noses, but he just saw Laine Marset, the lead scientist working on the project, get killed right in front of him. The ugly alien turned and fired several shots from one of the slugthrower weapons they used... and he found out soon enough how well blaster armor did against the alien weapon.

Most body armor in the Lylat system was designed to defeat blaster fire. A thin layer of thermoset polymer covered a lightweight polyceramic compound designed to 'absorb' the energy from a blaster bolt. Instead of having a gaping hole burned through the target, a decent set of anti-blaster armor produced singed fur and a nasty burn scar at the most. The armor was light and effective, yet rather expensive... his unit was one of a few which were issued it. The armor was a badge of an elite unit; in fact the Red Storm division's renown was just underneath that of the Eradicators.

Their armor was designed to overcome light shrapnel, but the manufacturer never accounted for a 9x18mm Soviet surplus pistol bullet flying at just over 300 meters per second. The round punched through the armor of the soldier in front of him, and he fell to the ground screaming.

The four remaining Guardsmen took cover as the alien continued to return fire, the loud reports from the slugthrower resounding through the room. The experienced soldier counted five before it stopped and saw his other soldiers tense up. They were going against just one alien. The light was bad... where was it? Was it armed with anything more potent?

One of his crew flashed a hand signal at him.. he was going to try to draw its fire. He made his way deeper into the darkened lab, snapping off shots at the alien. It was a classic tactic and pretty solid, especially against armed civilians and others not used to dealing with soldiers. He assumed the alien wasn't used to this sort of warfare, and he led his three remaining men in a flanking position.

Cairnes heard the sound of footsteps ahead over the din of his comrade's blaster bolts. Their quarry was moving, trying to escape their flanking maneuver. So the alien _had _a rudimentary grasp of tactics... at least it wouldn't be a boring kill, but he would revel in the alien's destruction when it was all over. His flanker moved again, standing up and firing a few more blaster bolts in its direction; taking a look at his intended target.

The world instantly became a fury of light and sound. The alien had switched position and targeted the flanker, returning fire with a weapon that gave out a Teutonic roar. The blaster armor had proved ineffective against a low-power pistol cartridge, and the heavy 7.62x39mm rounds Brian's AKM fired tore through it as if it were tissue paper. The Venom soldier's body jerked with the multiple impacts the assault rifle gave him before tumbling down into a lifeless heap.

Cairnes was about to move the remainder of his team forward but the alien fired again, the weapon's flash giving away its position yet also pinning them behind the relative cover of a hastily overturned table. The table would have provided a little cover from blaster fire, at least until a decent shot burned a hole through the table. However, the alien's weapon seemed almost immune to the effects of six centimeters of hardwood, and another of his team slumped forward... victim to the two 7.62mm projectiles which cored him. Their team was now down to him and his remaining comrade, and they exchanged nervous looks. The hairless ape creature wasn't something to be trifled with, and his arrogant attitude had cost his team their lives.

A shout from deeper inside the lab carried through the ringing din and the sharp scent of something burning. Cairnes was sure it wasn't woodsmoke, and he had a hunch that it was whatever powered the alien weapon. Now, the alien was speaking in strangely-accented Lylat. "How's it like to be on the receiving end of a bullet, assholes?" This surprised him for a moment, but he took a moment to shoot back a reply.

"You have no chance of escaping, alien! Every Imperial unit in this base will be out for your blood! If you surrender now, I might make a case for you to live!" He was just trying to buy his own team time. He motioned for his remaining team member to circle around. They were going to catch the alien bastard in a crossfire, and their conversation was going to prove a fine distraction.

"You expect me to believe that, dipshit?" The alien's reply came from a slightly different location. Using hand signals, the two flanked around the source of the voice. "I buy that about as far as I could toss a fuckin' Buick!" Cairnes spent a split second wondering exactly what a 'Buick' was, but tossed that out of mind. It was a mystery he could live without knowing. Without a word, they circled around to ambush the bastard...

* * *

Brian crept forward, the AKM leading the way as his ears kept alert for signs of movement. For the first time on this adventure he felt in control. He was stalking armed soldiers with the advantage of significant firepower. The merc was finally in his element; a cat and mouse game he had played and won countless times in the past. The sharp pain in his left arm reminded him of the stakes... either one of the two soldiers left in the room were fully capable of killing him. He was caught by a spatter of molten metal when the guy they sent to flank him opened up. The Venom soldier had nailed the Audi's engine block instead of him, but he was going to have a scar from that encounter... if he made it out alive.

He had folded the assault rifle's stock up to facilitate maneuvering in the tight confines of the lab. This made the AK a handful to control, but in such tight quarters he didn't need pinpoint accuracy. His weapon was designed for close-range, furious firefights like this.

Brian caught the sound of footsteps close by. He knew they were going to try another flanking maneuver. Their tactics were sound but lacked imagination; they were bound to not keep a precise location on one another throughout the entire maneuver. He was counting on this... and he didn't have to wait long for his gamble to pay off.

One of the creatures, some sort of monkey, had strode right in front of him. "Gotya." Brian shook his head as he pulled the trigger. The rifle roared again, sending its next victim tumbling to the cement floor. Immediately he was on the move; the muzzle flash of the AK was like a beacon; if he stayed in one spot he would be a sitting duck.

However, Brian's luck just about ran out. The final enemy was waiting in the shadows, aiming his blaster rifle just as Brian stumbled into him. Both merc and Red Storm guardsman yelped in surprise at the sudden close-quarter meeting. Cairnes responded first, slamming his blaster rifle down on Brian's head... only to be caught by the foregrip of the merc's AK. It was a peculiar battle; skilled soldiers from completely different worlds, armed with completely different weaponry.

Cairnes reacted again, swinging the blaster rifle in an arc, once again deflected by the cold, unyielding steel of the AK. His opponent was on the defensive, and he was going to take him down. Another swing was deflected, but the Venom soldier found himself tumbling towards the ground, hitting it hard.

He looked up to see the alien clearly for the first time. The hairless ape glanced down to him, the wicked-looking weapon grasped in its hands. The muzzle was pointed directly at his face, and he could see the alien shaking its head. "Nice try, but not good enough." The gaping hole of the strange rifle poked him in the chest as the alien continued to speak. "Luck of the draw. Sometimes you get the bear, and sometimes the bear gets you." With a grin he twisted the rifle around. Caines felt the sensation of cold steel slamming into his head before the world turned dark.

* * *

Brian acted quickly, exchanging the partially-spent AK magazine for a full one. After letting the assault rifle dangle from its tactical sling, he pulled the empty pistol from his pants pocket and closed the slide. The spent handgun was tucked into a spare pocket on the vest before he returned to the rifle. He was sure the base was on alert and he had to get out of there quick. The merc dashed out of the darkened room and away from the infirmary at top speed.

As he entered the corridor the communications device in his ear beeped at him... Matthew was trying to get his attention. "What is it, I'm kinda busy!" he snapped as he ducked into the shadows. He wasn't taking any chances, his eyes and ears trying to discern anyone coming for him.

Matthew's reply came after a split second. "_I'm scanning all shortband comm systems in range. Came across an encrypted signal that was pretty easy to break. It's on a strange band... 965 megahertz. Doesn't fit any Venom or Conerian comm protocol I've seen."_

Brian sighed, ducking into another dark alcove as he heard footsteps. His AK was held at the ready just in case he was about to get into another firefight. "Get on with it." he whispered. "Spare the details."

"_Looks like someone's trying to infiltrate the Darkice Mines, specifically this installation. Looks like there's two teams and some sort of recon element. Want me to patch you to it?"_

Brian held his breath as a team came running down the hall. Once again they didn't see him, but there must have been twelve of the guys. They were going to converge on the infirmary, but after that... if he was trying to catch someone he would try an ever-widening patrol net. He had to keep moving. "Go ahead. Make it quick."

_"I can only get bits and pieces from them, but I'll patch you in. It'll be a minute."_

Brian sighed again, pushing forward quickly. He was one man without any suppressed weapons. With his current loadout he could survive for a little bit... longer if the Venom troops didn't catch onto him. The dark corridors and what looked to be a lack of manpower would be in his favor, but he needed to get down into the mines where the Spellstone was kept without drawing too much attention to himself. The entrance was around here somewhere.

The radio carried through again. This time the voices had the quality of professional soldiers, someone used to sneaking around heavily-guarded installations. _"Recon unit, check in. Is the base on alert?" _

_"Yes, sir. They've pulled perimeter guards back in. Extraction paths for Alpha and Gamma teams are clear, over."_

_"Acknowledged, Recon. Alpha team, on me. Primary target is in the infirmary. Gamma team, you take the secondary. Run silent until secondary target destruction is confirmed."_

Brian blinked at that. Someone else was after a couple things in this base. But, what would be in the infirmary? None of the voices sounded familiar; this ruled Sazbo out... even though he knew the Serbian would have been interested in the firearms that were left in the Audi... and now were in his hands. Something else came to mind... they could be after Krystal? As long as they didn't find her, he didn't care. He needed to get this stone and get the duck out of fodge.

The merc spotted what he was looking for after a few minutes of wandering. The corridors all looked the same but he assumed the large spiral ramp leading down was a good indication where the mines were. Brian scampered down it, the AK leading the way. The place got darker, and the air got much warmer... he was close to hitting paydirt.

He stopped at the bottom of the ramp, which dead-ended at a conveyor belt. That was odd, but he really didn't have any choice but to follow. The path wasn't without danger, apparent by the several large boulders which were cascading down the belts. Brian grit his teeth... this was going to be fun. He decided to take a few moments to steel his courage. "Going to take brass balls to do this one."

The radio beeped again. _"Gamma team, please advise. Enemy units have locked down the infirmary. They're looking for something. Do not engage until secondary target has been taken care of. Repeat, do not engage until secondary target has been destroyed. What's your ETA, over?"_

Another voice came on the radio, one that actually sounded familiar to Brian... yet he wasn't sure who it could be._ "ETA in ten minutes, sir. Going is slow, but we haven't been spotted yet. Once the charges are set, feel free to engage. Gamma lead, out."_

Brian arched his brow but remained on alert. The familiar voice had him thinking a bit, but he had to clear his mind. He needed his concentration on surviving the next few minutes. Time was coming... _now._

The former Marine jumped onto the conveyor and prepared for the ride of his life. He rushed forward, the motion of the belt carrying him forward at great speed... he needed to time this just right. His body was slightly weighed down with the guns and armor he had, and he needed to compensate for... he ducked under a stamping machine in his path and kept on going, a quick glance to his right revealing the ground underneath the conveyor belt rising sharply. With luck he would be able to jump off without hurting himself.

He edged past a series of flame jets and another stamper, but the increasing amount of death-inducing industrial machinery in front of him caused more than a bit of nervousness. He needed off this ride, and pronto. Taking a flying leap to the right, Brian cleared the belt and landed on hard, rough ground... knocking the wind out of him.

"Christ..." he gasped, taking a moment to recover. Some things you never got used to. Knocking the breath out of yourself was one of them. He had done it several times in similar situations... usually hitting the deck when getting shot at. Still, Brian made sure to keep covering the area, scanning the area with his AK as he lay flat on his back. A beep in his ear signaled another transmission.

_"Alpha__ Lead, this is Alpha__ 3. Venom troops are carrying bodies out of the infirmary. Looks like one received a stab wound, and... damn. One was shot. Lead, I'm confirming possible gunshot wounds here."_

_"Alpha__ 3, you're implying that someone has shot one of the Venom troops stationed here?"_

_"Yes, sir. Looks like they're going to be tearing this place apart looking for whoever shot them. Our positions may be compromised if we don't relocate."_

_"Damn it. Gamma Lead, step it up. Get that target blown on the double! Also, looks like we've got a gunman loose in the area. Designate him or her tertiary target. Find and capture, or eliminate if hostile. Focus after primary and secondary objectives." _A chorus of 'Yes, sir's' echoed through the headset then went silent.

"Waitasec... they're human?" His conclusion was reached pretty quickly as he stood up, unfolding the AK's stock and placing it against his shoulder. Their talk of gunshot wounds pretty much sealed the deal, and the fact they were after him once they got their targets out of the way wasn't good news. Sounded like some sort of SWAT or SpecOps team, but... how? As far as he knew, his buddies and Sazbo's crew were the only humans here... or were they? "How much more complicated is this shit going to get?"

Brian glanced around the rough stone of the mines, lit by the glow of pools of molten metal. The place looked foreboding, and the complete absence of anyone down here added to it. Something didn't seem right, even after taking away the megalomanical alien empire, the native lizards in league with them, and the team of people looking to attack them. For the first time in his life, Brian Lancing felt like he was way in over his head. Yet, he knew there was a way out of this... there had to be.

He crept deeper into the mines, his AK leading the way. The place was blistering hot, and he paused to take off his suit jacket... having to slip off the combat vest he was wearing to do so. As he glanced up he spotted a sign... written in the flowing script that he had found on Krystal's ship. However he spotted a translation, neatly written in English: 'Beware of Galdon.' As he tied the suit jacket around his waist, he keyed in Matt's frequency.

* * *

Matthew Phoenix was getting nervous. He had been trying to monitor the connection they had with the strange infiltrators, but they suddenly switched frequencies... he couldn't pinpoint it. Even though they were locked inside a Venom troop shuttle he couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched. He was also stressed out at the double-duty he had been working on.

Along with keeping in touch with Brian, Matt was keeping watch over the vixen that they had grabbed out of the infirmary. He had a look at the datapad they had snagged from her hospital bed.. she wasn't looking good. A stun rifle blast right to the back of her neck had caused a massive amount of damage to her nervous system. The results were usually fatal, but she showed signs of fighting it. The fennec had taken enough med classes at the Academy to know that her chances of surviving had improved after she had regained consciousness, if only for a few seconds.

She wasn't out of danger yet, however. Her breathing was shallow, something that worried Matt. He checked her aspiration, judging it by the fog left on the inside of the oxygen mask placed over her muzzle. He glanced back at the small computer readout next to her stretcher... her vitals were weak, yet amazingly stable. "Hang in there... you have a chance just yet." He patted her on the shoulder for reassurance.

A beep from the portable comm system next to him caught his attention, as well as the sound of Brian's voice. _"Hey, Matt? Got a question for you."_ Matt didn't think he would actually call up, especially after the 'piss off' tone of voice he had earlier.

"I'm here, Brian. Go ahead." Matt glanced back at Krystal, who over the past half-hour had remained still. He kept a constant watch over the vixen, lest something happened or she miraculously awakened.

_"I'm reading this sign that says to beware a Galdon. What the hell _is_ that? And, I'm cut off from the SpecOps team you managed to listen in on earlier. Was there a code switch or something?"_

Matt blinked. SpecOps? He wasn't sure of the term, but if he called them something it meant he knew what they were. As far as the Galdon, however.. "The Galdon you're talking about is some sort of legendary beast the locals have mentioned. I thought it was dead... if you have to fight it you have your work cut out. You have that staff Krystal told you to keep, right?"

_"Yeah, and I managed to supplement my firepower. Still... legendary beasts? I'm a damn merc, not some sort of mythical dragonslayer. Christ. Well, I guess this knight in shining armor has an AK-47 instead of a sword, so I think it works out. Not what I wanted to hear, though."_

"What's an AK-47?" Matt inquired. At least it gave him something to think about. "Some sort of weapon from your world?"

_"Yeah. Cheaply made, mass-manufactured Soviet bloc firepower. Not exactly my first choice, but it's something. Least if I have to deal with this SpecOps team I'll have something to level the playing field."_

"What's this... SpecOps you're talking about?" Matt scratched his ear as he continued to keep a watch on Krystal. The vitals on the small display were steady, which was encouraging news to say the least.

_"Special Operations unit of some sort. I think they're human. They saw a couple of the Venom troops I've shot, but I think I'm far enough away that they won't be looking for me here." _There was a pause on the line. _" I hope."_

"Great... more fun for the party? I just hope Fara hurries up with her clunker and gets here. Any decent ship's medical facilities would give your vixen a better chance at recovery. Just get that stone so we can dust off and get the hell off this death rock."

_"You don't have to tell me twice. The sooner I do this, the sooner I can find my comrades and get the hell home. Brian out."_ Matt heard the click of the transmission ending and resumed his watch over Krystal. The vixen was still holding onto life, but as before she was dangling by a precarious thread. However, all he could really do was wait. Enough waiting and this nightmare would be over with... for him at least.

* * *

Brian continued down the dark tunnel, making sure to keep as quiet as he could. He really didn't feel like fighting some damn mythological monster... especially one that these dinosaurs thought was threatening. "I mean, hell. I'd hate to stare down a T-rex, and if this thing could scare one of those... I'm not going to have a good day." His voice was a mere whisper as he emerged from the tunnel into a giant cavern.

The place was indescribably massive. An eight-story office building could have fit in there, possibly hidden between a few massive stone pillars that reached the ceiling, obviously there to support the thousands of tons of rock that were above his head at this very moment. Brian slid off to the side, letting the AK go so he could switch weapons. The Dragunov's PSO-P scope would prove very useful as he scouted out the place.

The scope managed to bring some clarity to the massive chamber, although the darkness made it hard to see. Surprisingly, he couldn't see anyone or anything milling about. This made him nervous, bringing back memories of old computer gaming stints when he was a kid.

When he was about 11, he played the then-new videogame, Doom. He loved the shooter, cracking at it whenever he could on his uncle's work computer... usually on weekends. However, he reached a level that held a massive, open area... and a massive, rocket-firing enemy to greet his digital self. It scared the shit out of him when he was a kid, and the talk of beasts and finding an open room like this was nerve-wracking.

"Great fucking childhood fear to have right now. I swear, Krystal's going to get an earful when I get back." He sighed at that. He had been a bit harsh on the fox, especially during this time of stress. She had it about as bad as he did, and he wasn't the one who was in a coma right now. Still, she was about his only way back home and that was something that really started to get to him... he hoped she would be okay... and was surprised to find that the hope wasn't solely because his way back home depended on her.

Brian continued to scan the area as best he could. However there was nothing in sight other than the tall stone pillars and a string of catwalks connecting them. Another dominating feature of the chamber was the large drawbridge off to his right, closed against whatever lay beyond. A large pool of molten ore acted as a moat... it was buttoned up to keep someone out... or something in, Brian mused. He needed to get that door open, beast or no beast. It was time for the merc to earn his 'pay,' so to speak. He stood up, hefting the sniper rifle in his hands as he moved forward. Time to look for a way to open the door.

Several minutes passed as he examined the drawbridge... there was no lever there to lower it, however the chains which held it in place extended up the cavern wall, extending into darkness. It looked like the catwalks were his sure bet, and he started to walk towards one of the massive pillars.

Brian felt more than heard the rumbling _crump_ from above, the ground shaking underneath. Quite a bit of rubble pattered down from the roof, pelting him with a couple of chunks of rock. The former Marine narrowly missed having a chair-sized chunk of boulder slam down on his head, which caused him to yelp. Another rumbling, screeching sound came from behind... the drawbridge fell down and into place. "Good lord!" Brian exclaimed. Immediately, he hit the button to call Matt. "What the Hell is going on up there? Something almost brought the roof down on my ass!"

_"I'm checking... damn. I'm getting some scattered Venom traffic, but I can't stay on their band for too long; we can't risk me getting detected. Shit... they're being attacked. Someone blew their subspace comm system and they're coming under assault by black-suited troops. They're going to be busy dealing with these SpecOps guys. You better get a move on before they come onto us... or you."_

Brian sighed and glanced down the open drawbridge. He slung the Dragunov back over his shoulder and grabbed the AK once again. "Gotya. You haven't been able to snoop in on them again, have you?" He took a moment to build his resolve... it was really do or die time. He had the equipment. He had the experience... all he needed was the guts.

_"I can't get a track on their frequency, man. Oh, shit. You need to get this done soon. Krystal's heartbeat just went erratic. I think that staff you've got was keeping her alive, and if her condition starts going downhill she's not going to have a chance. I'm cutting you off... I need to focus on keeping her stable." _The communications device clicked in his ear. The pressure was on, and Brian took a deep breath.

"Just fucking great. Here we go again." The merc sighed and darted across the drawbridge, planting the AK's stock to his shoulder. The air went from warm to blazing hot as he crossed the pool of molten metal... yet as he reached the other side the air grew cold. A temperature drop of about fifty degrees felt like a tangible physical shock. The air was in the low-forties where he experienced Iraq-like heat in the mines. This was getting strange, and the sense of fear cropped up and burrowed itself into his mind. However, he had to get this done... no matter the cost.

The hallway he ran into was small and chilly, goosebumps cropping up on his arms as he rushed forward. His hand manipulated the AK's selector, snapping the weapon into full auto and returning to grip the weapon, his finger riding along the triggerguard. He rushed into a completely dark chamber... the echoes of his footsteps telling him he was in another large area. The only light he could see was that of a control panel to his left. Stumbling towards it, he wished he had some sort of nightvision system.

The panel was in English once again, the only button upon it inscribed 'Main Power', encased in a soft red glow. With a deep breath Brian pushed it with his left hand, his right aiming the assault rifle anywhere he could. The sounds of flame jets came on for a moment before the lights switched on.

What the merc saw chilled his blood, the old fears coming to the forefront of his mind. He was nearly paralyzed in fright at the sight that lay before him. Doom had become a reality in his mind, and he now was a scared eleven year old boy playing a video game in a darkened room after midnight.

"Christ... now I _wish_ I was facing a good 'ol Cyberdemon..."


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes: Well, I'm really sorry to lay this behemoth of a chapter on you guys... it was kinda rushed and attempted to bring some loose ends together, as well as throw some of the 'complexness' out of the story... I want to get back to writing a little more simpler of a plot. To be warned, this one's weighing in at just over 12,000 words without this blurb... heh. I don't mean to be a word count whore, and there's still more to go. Yikes... it is quite mind-boggling. I do appreciate you guys for sticking with it this long, and I will be definitely bumping up the pace after this, both in chapters put out and plot progression per chapter. On the plus side, there's lots of action and more than a little death, so be entertained. Heh.**

**Also, please note that I made a mistake in my last notes section. JyrFalcon345's story is now entitled 'An Unholy Angel,' for those who tried to find it and could not. I'd highly suggest you check it out if you're in for something a little more fast-paced than my lumbering beast of a story. Hehe. :P**

**I won't be adding a tech section on this chapter simply because of its length... I think it's good, but heh. We'll see how it progresses. Anyway, have fun and tell me what you think, either good or bad!**

Chapter 18: Victory Comes With a Price.

The shuttle touched down right next to the entrance to the Venom base; the constant snowstorm the Darkice mines was subjected to pounding upon the new entry to its domain. The doors opened, allowing the seven figures to rush from the warm, climate-controlled interior of the spacecraft out into the frigid cold... and then into the slightly warmer confines of the base.

The seven humans were not dressed for this weather in the slightest; business suits were not cold weather gear by any stretch of the imagination. However, none of them paid the weather any heed; the five Serbian gunrunners, an ex-Spetznaz lieutenant and a former policeman stood inside the base entrance... all quite well-armed.

One of the three Imperial troops sent to the base entrance to greet them shook his head. The feline wore scuffed red armor and sported a bandage around his head; a 'present' from the same type of alien he had been sent to greet. These aliens were wreaking havoc despite their small numbers... and they were enlisting more of them as a way to deal with the threat. "Well, I hope they briefed you on what's going on. I've already had to deal with you hairless apes enough for one lifetime." His tone of voice expressed disdain and contempt for the six males and one female in front of him.

One of the aliens, the one with no headfur, walked up to him. "It's apparent you can be taught a lesson in respect from this, but I will not be the one to give it." The ice-blue eyes the alien had made Corporal Carnes a little nervous. The fact that most of them had rifles that looked just like the one he had been struck with twenty minutes ago was not helping matters. However he was the ranking NCO here, and he wasn't going to start a brawl with the 'hired help.' The alien still stood right in front of him, speaking once more. "Now, you will give us a briefing. You will tell us who we need to kill, and where we need to kill them. We will kill them, then we will be out of your way. Is this clear?"

Cairnes nodded, suppressing a sigh. He had lost his entire command today, and the two new recruits that tagged along behind him were all that he had at the moment. Being ordered around by the alien irked him to the core, but in all reality he couldn't do anything about it. "There are black-suited troops swarming parts of the base. We have confined them to a couple of areas, but they knocked out our comm system. We need some help in eliminating them. Also, we have a lone infiltrator that we think may have managed to wander into the mines. We want you to split your team. One part will help us with the other aliens... the other will track down and kill the one who managed to penetrate into the mines. Is this clear enough?"

The blue-eyed alien nodded at Cairnes before glancing back at the others. He barked out orders in a harsh language and they split off into two groups... except one that stood there with a puzzled expression on his face. "You, Mitchell. With Borodin, Nikola, and Milorad." The other alien nodded and moved toward one of the groups. After the outburst he turned toward the cat. "Those four will accompany you to take care of your... invasion problem. These other two and I will take care of the other one... personally."

* * *

"Damn it!" Matthew spat as he glanced to the small readout on the medical terminal he was next to. Krystal's heart rate was erratic, the vixen starting to tremble as soft gasps echoed through her lips. She was starting to go into shock and he had to do something, quick. His paw flew to the green bottle next to her and twisted the valve that lay on top; increasing the flow of oxygen to her mask. After he did so his paws rummaged through the trauma pack he had taken from the troop transport's supply bin. It wasn't as well-organized as he hoped; Venom standards for their medical equipment had taken a nosedive after the Lylat war eight years ago. After a moment of rummaging he found the syringe he had been looking for. The artificial adrenaline he held could be the key to stabilizing her temporarily, but he also knew that too much of it in her current state could hurt her far worse than it would help.

Her stun injury had caused a lot of her nerve centers to completely shut off. While the medical staff in the Venom base had been able to coax most of her vital functions into working again, they weren't working very well. Matt's only option was to keep her alive any way he could until he was able to get her into a more complete medical facility. After that... well, he wasn't a doctor by any means. The complete suite of equipment any large ship was required to have would help immensely but he would still be hampered by a lack of skill.

The fennec sighed as he stuck the needle into the vixen's arm, pumping the chemical into her system. Her heartbeat almost immediately grew stronger and attained a better rhythm, but not healthy by any means. Her gasping quieted down somewhat and she seemed to stop trembling. Matt knew he had bought her some time... but how long was anyone's guess. He kept watch over the vixen, his focus completely on keeping her somewhat well until they could get out of the hellhole they were in.

* * *

Krystal found herself in a garden; the sweet scent of kukla flowers and dew almost transporting her back to a happier time and place. The sea-green grass she was sitting down in was soft to the touch as well as cool, bringing a smile to her lips as she stood up. The setting was strange. She idly wondered why she was here instead of in the hospital-like room; was all of it merely a big nightmare and she was really back on Cerinia?

She stood up, glancing around the garden. However, the thought that all of it was a dream was pushed to the back of her mind. She felt at peace and curiously detached from everything. The vixen glanced around for her staff and was mildly surprised to see it wasn't there. Curiously, she decided to look for it.

The garden was laid out in the traditional Cerinian style; bordered by hedges and elaborate displays of native flora designed to give tribute and praise to Melos. Krystal knew a little of the symbolism behind a traditional garden, yet since she wasn't a priest she didn't know exactly how it all went together. All this was thought about and discarded as she neared the center of the garden... seeing two other Cerinians standing there... her mother and father.

"Mom! Dad!" she cried, rushing towards them and sweeping them into a big hug... or attempting to as she flew right through them and hit the ground. She was too surprised to notice it didn't even hurt. "Wha... what's happening?"

Her mother's form turned around to face her, getting down on one knee and looking down to her daughter. "I'm sorry, Krys. You're not on our plane of existence... we're just close enough to actually talk to one another."

Her heart skipped a beat as she stood up, looking at her parents. "You mean that all of this is real? I'm... I'm dying?" She knew that the closer one drifted toward the Beyond, the closer one could come to interacting with those who had passed. "Am I... about to pass?"

Her father nodded, a solemn expression on his features. "Yes. You may end up slipping into the Beyond... with us." He shook his head, glancing at her. "You must not give up... there is a chance you might survive, and you must take it. For all of us."

"But... I miss you. I want to be home... I want this all to end!" Krystal started sobbing, closing her eyes as the tears came. "I didn't... ask for any of this!"

Her mother knelt down beside her, placing a ghostly paw upon her daughter's shoulder. Neither of them noticed that her mother was actually able to touch her. "I know you didn't, sweetheart. It really is a lot to ask, but we are counting on you. You must finish what Meran has unleashed before it consumes another planet."

Krystal looked up to her parents, a look of confusion growing on her features. "I... I don't understand. Who is Meran? What is going on?" Did Meran have something to do with Cerinia's destruction?

Her father nodded. "Meran Kentoc was another Council member, hungry for power... we could all see through his speeches about learning from other cultures and utilizing the Art as a teleportation conduit." He sighed, settling a paw on her shoulder as well, closing his eyes as he did so.

Krystal's mother continued the story. "He brought one of those outsiders here... he was a soldier of some sort. The outsider was evil... we could read him like a scroll. Killed many of his own kind for pleasure and at the behest of others... we knew that Meran would raise an army of these aliens if he could and take Cerinia for his own. We made a hasty decision to exile him to Sauria... with only enough fuel to get there and nearly no contact from the Lylat system, we assumed he would be there for life."

Krystal nodded. "He... he got out?" It was plausible, although all this had to have happened in secret, probably for her own protection. The thought of another Cerinian on Sauria working against them and highly trained in the Art was unsettling. There wouldn't be any way to stop him. If she passed, Brian would be alone against him, and that meant... another thought came to mind. "My... friend. Is he working for Meran?"

Her parents shook their heads. "No." her mother said. "We were able to manipulate his teleportation spell from the Beyond, but not stop it altogether. We tried to bring in a few more outsiders... hoping they might fix the mess. It was a risky decision, because they would likely _join_ Meran... but with at least one of them with you, there is a chance you'll stop them from taking over Sauria."

Krystal was about to say something else, but she felt her parents' paws leave her shoulders, worried expressions upon their features. Her father sighed and gripped her paw. "You're quickly fading, Krystal. We can't sense your staff near you... is it with someone else?"

The vixen nodded, understanding what her parents were going to try to do. Binding her spirit with her staff would keep her body going for a little longer, but was risky. Her staff needed a nearby lifeforce for the staff to interact with; otherwise her spirit stood a chance of being trapped inside the staff. Dying and being stuck inside her weapon wasn't a pleasant way to spend eternity. "Yes... Brian has my staff. I gave it to him before... so he would have something to defend himself with."

"A noble act, my girl." Her father smiled and hugged her. "However, you must remember that selfless acts that put you in danger aren't always the best decision." He let go then, his paws settling upon her temples. "This is a very risky ritual, Krystal. We can transfer your soul to your staff, but it must be in contact with someone. I don't know how it will work with your alien friend, but if it fails..."

Krystal nodded, sighing as she did so. She knew the consequences of being transferred to a 'dead' staff very well; the warning had been drilled into her entire caste from the time they aspired to learn the Art. "I shall replace the Guardian Spirit inside the staff and be locked into it forever." The grim reality had sealed more than a few Cerinians' fates. There were those who aspired to become Guardian Spirits to pass on their knowledge to future generations, but Krystal wasn't eager to join them.

Her father nodded solemnly. "It is up to you to take the risk. I cannot force you to take it. However, you have a chance to bring Meran to judgment... but you are risking eternity to do so." With a sigh he hugged her tightly, knowing full well there might not be a chance of them seeing one another again.

The young vixen turned to her parents, a question brewing on her mind. "And if I remain here... what of my friend? Will he survive? Will he make it home?" She wondered about that; there was little chance she could bring him back to his homeworld even of she survived; but what if she didn't?

Her mother closed her eyes, setting a paw upon her shoulder. "Are you sure you wish to know this? Knowledge of a possible future isn't to be taken lightly." Krystal nodded, and her mother continued. "He won't survive here. There are many forces arrayed against you two. He will either be killed by the Galdon, or by the aliens who are out for his blood."

Krystal froze for a moment... her decision also sealed Brian's fate, as well. Without a moment's hesitation she glanced to her parents. "Bind me with my staff. I shall take the chance." The icy grasp of fear clenched over her heart, but she would deal with it. She had a planet and a friend to protect.

* * *

Brian grit his teeth as he looked up into the chamber he was in... or, rather, the thirty foot tall monster which inhabited it. The beast was encased in ice, but the flame jets which fired upon it were melting that ice quickly. The merc had a feeling that the beast was still alive even after being frozen... and more importantly, once it thawed out he was sure it was going to be _pissed._

The creature had something on a thick chain around its neck, a large polished jewel of some sort. _'It's the spellstone!' _whispered in his mind, but he wasn't entirely sure the voice was his. If it was, the damn thing was certainly well-protected. "God help me..." Brian prayed as he lifted the AK. The beast was stirring, and it was going to see him and...

The roar it bellowed shook the room. Brian stumbled a step and took a deep breath. The beast was looking right at him, and it was do or die time. It didn't matter if this thing was larger than that digitized Cyberdemon he faced in _Doom._ He was going to kill it, or it was going to kill him. Strangely, that caused his nerves to settle. He was as prepared as he was going to be. "I'm going to take you down, you overgrown lizard." He settled the AK into his shoulder as the beast charged.

The creature roared once more as it bore down on him, lifting a car-sized foot to stomp on him. The creature was quicker than it looked, but not quick enough. Brian rolled out of the way as the foot came crashing down. Its underbelly was exposed, and he took the chance, pulling the rifle's trigger while he was on the ground.

The beast's scales were a lot tougher than he thought. The high-velocity 7.62mm slugs he fired sparked and flashed against its skin, proving to be a lot tougher than he imagined. He felt something slam into his side , the Kevlar lining of his vest stopping a ricochet. "Fuck!" he spat, rolling out of the way of another well-placed foot.

The merc scrambled to his feet as the beast roared another time. He had to find its weak spot... somewhere. If it kept this up he was going to be mashed pretty quickly. He backed up, the creature staring at him and roaring again. The stench of its breath made his eyes water, and another strange thought spoke aloud into his mind. _'Its tail! It's glowing!'_ A quick glance to the beast confirmed that fact, and he decided to take the chance. With speed borne of desperation and adrenaline-fueled fear, Brian pointed his rifle at the tail and fired again, the weapon roaring and bucking in his hands.

The creature roared again, this time in pain as the 7.62x39mm rounds punched through its tail. The noise of the beast and the AK almost deafened him, yet he looked up in time to see the creature bend down to try to take a bite out of him. "I'm not ending up as creature shit today, pal!" The merc swung his weapon upwards and smashed the trigger, the AK roaring in defiance as the beast bore down on him.

The weapon clicked on empty, yet the creature stopped. He could see blood streaming from its mouth... he had hurt it, and prolly pretty decently. He grinned at it as he thought about reloading... the beast drawing back from him. The 'voice' prompted him again. _'Run!'_ Brian hesitated a second, just as he saw the creature's mouth glowing a bright green. He split, running away from it... just as it spit a large gob of... something at him.

The 'something' splashed yards away from him, sending small bits of green goo splashing on him... mostly on his left leg. He heard something sizzling then felt intense pain... whatever it was, it was definitely an acid of some kind. Brian winced and ignored the pain as best he could. He had to concentrate on killing the beast. The merc reloaded the rifle with the precision and speed of an expert, and this time was going to press the attack.

The massive beast looked at him again, and Brian judged the distance to be about one hundred yards. It opened his mouth again... and he had an idea. Dropping the AK and letting it dangle from its tactical sling, he opted for unslinging and shouldering the Dragunov. While a rather impractical weapon in close quarters, he had enough distance to use it. He peered through the scope and set the rifle's crosshairs set down its throat.

The 7.62x54mm round was much more powerful than the one the AK fired. The Dragunov slammed against his shoulder with the force of a mule, but the shot was still well-aimed. The bullet went down the monster's gullet and slammed into the back of its throat. It stumbled a bit, its roar choked off to a strange, gurgling cry... its acid bomb it was trying to throw up spilling over its scales.

Brian whooped for joy as the creature stumbled a little more and opened its maw for another cry. The Dragunov spoke again, this time the rifle's bullet tore down its throat a little more cleanly. It struggled to keep upright, and the former Marine heard that voice echo into his head. _'It's almost down... one more hit!'_

He didn't have to wait long... the beast stumbled for him once again in a clumsy charge; its mouth frothing over with blood. It opened its jaws one more time, and Brian fired three more times. The creature tumbled to the ground with a trembling motion, causing Brian to fall to the floor. He grunted as he got back up, his pulse pounding and his hands trembling. He had come close, but the monster was defeated... and he was still alive. Oddly, the 'voice' was silent... had he just imagined it? With a sigh he hit the call button on the comm unit.

_"I'm here, man. Krystal's stable for now, but... you need to get back here. Did you find that stone yet?" _Matt seemed a little anxious, and a little afraid. Brian didn't even want to know what was going on.

"I did, yeah. It was attached to that Galdon beast you talked about... not exactly something I want to truck with again. I'm picking it up now." Brian crossed over to the dead creature, trying to ignore the stench its carcass was already emitting. It wasn't pretty, even to someone who had been put up in some of the worst places Earth had to offer. "Now... something's going on. What is it?"

_"The Venom guys sent for some more help. I'm not sure what they're bringing in, but they're talking about eliminating your black-suited buddies. It's going to be real hard to dodge their patrols now, and we need to make a clean getaway. We're going to be out in the middle of space for a couple days at least until Fara gets here."_

Brian nodded as he wrestled with the chain holding the Spellstone onto the monster. Thankfully there were catches holding the stone to the chain, and as he fiddled with them a bit the prize was his... promptly stuffed into the duffel bag. With a sigh he reloaded the Dragunov and slung it over his back. "Understood. So, gotta be a lot more quiet coming out than going in." He wished one of his weapons had a suppressor, but there was simply no luck. "I'll do my best. Signing out." Brian cut the connection and walked out of the quickly warming chamber and back into the mine.

The caverns seemed a little less ominous now that he had defeated the beast within... yet something at the back of his mind was nagging him. The situation was entirely screwed up. He was on some alien planet, trying to save some blue fox creature so he could get back home. He was up against some sort of Nazi-like alien military group... as well as some sort of some covert operatives fighting them... possibly human ones at that. It was a clusterfuck... and what about the 'voice' he was hearing? It was way too much to think about. Thinking instead of acting tended to get one killed.

As Brian ran out of the massive chamber he grabbed a hold of the AK. He was sure it was going to see more use by the time he got out of there... he also hoped he had enough ammo to blast through whoever was in his way. The extra weight of the ammunition, guns, and Spellstone hampered his movement, and that wasn't a good thing.

The mines were clear as they had been before, but something started nagging him. The notion that people were ahead popped into his mind. There very well could be, but he needed a way out of the mines, and not one that entailed running through a series of mining machinery. After a moment of running around he spotted his goal... a wide spiral ramp leading upward. As he took a deep breath he ascended, the AK leading his every move.

As he reached the top of the ramp, an inexplicable wave of fear shot through his gut. He wasn't sure exactly what was wrong, but something was _seriously _amiss. He couldn't consider it combat instinct; this was different. _"Brian! Look out! They're here!"_ The cry ran through his mind as he saw the three figures. He fumbled with his AK as they brought their weapons up. The next sound he heard was gunfire... rifles and SMGs equipped with suppressors from the soft chittering they emitted.

Something slammed into the side of his head, his vision blurring. He felt himself fall towards the ground as his sight blacked out... feeling nothing more.

* * *

Ron held his Walther P99 at the ready as he led the way for the Serbian gunrunners, along with Sergey. He knew full well Sazbo's men were hoping they were going to bite it in an ambush. It seemed ironic that they were on an alien planet... sent here this far by some fucked-up blue fox... and would likely be killed by some mysterious gun-wielding men. This was rich. The former London police constable almost laughed.

He was laughably armed, considering the fact his right arm was firmly encased in a sling. Sazbo himself had done the job... a bloody good one, too. If he needed it, the AKSU-74 he had snagged in Switzerland was slung across his back... but it would be near-useless to use it with one good arm. Sergey at least had their G36, but even though Sazbo's boys had plenty of ammo they didn't have any of the 5.56mm rounds the German rifle used. Sergey had a decent amount of ammunition and they both had their pistols.

Ron also had Brian's P14 tucked into his jacket. Those Venom freaks were about to nick it from that Matt fellow until he stopped him. He wasn't much for American guns, nor the big-arsed .45, but if they met up with Brian he'd be sure he would want it back. That, and at least it was a bit of firepower Sazbo's boys didn't know about... any card up their sleeve was an ace at this point.

The hallway they walked down was devoid of any troops, either Venom or the mysterious attackers. However, the litter of battle was very evident. A sprawled body here or there was an ominous warning to the four... each and every one of them a Venom trooper. After they passed down even further, a cascade of shell casings littered the floor.

Nikola bent down and picked up a few different casings, examining them with a practiced eye. "Recently fired. Five-seven and nine-millimeter, and a few 5.56 NATO." He tossed the casings down, the familiar clinking, clattering sound reaching all of their ears. "Mixture of FN P90 and HK MP5 SMGs, and some kind of NATO carbine. Suppressed. These men are professionals, whoever they are."

Milorad nodded, a grin spreading onto his features. "We outgun them, I would think. It will be nice to see some real action against real opponents for once... isn't that right, mercs?" He laughed at the slight insult, pushing Ron forward with a small shove. "Now, get moving. Don't forget to draw their fire... that's what you're not being paid to do!" Another laugh echoed from his lips... and then all Hell opened up.

Ron dove for the relative cover of a nearby alcove as he saw movement ahead, several shadowy figures emerging from the dark corridor ahead. The stupid Serbian fucks had given away their position! Sergey noticed it as well, diving for an alcove opposite him... leaving the Serbians out in the open as their new opponents opened fire.

Suppressed firearms weren't as loud as an 'uncanned' one, but wasn't as silent as Hollywood made them out to be. The muted chitter of the SMGs echoed from down the stone hall. but the four or five attackers knew exactly what they were doing. They popped out, fired, and took cover as quickly as if they were machines.

Milorad paid for his mistake, cored by several 9mm and 5.7mm rounds. He was dead before he hit the ground. Nikola was luckier, diving to the ground just in time to avoid getting hit. He returned fire, the AK74 he was using a deafening roar in comparison to the silenced weapons they were taking fire from. One of the figures popped out to take a closer look and was hit by the Serbian's rounds... tumbling to the ground. Ron could hear a muffled yelp and a series of curses.

Yet... the figure stood back up. "You stupid fucker!" rang out from the opponent before he fired back, hitting Nikola with a burst from his MP5. The remaining Serbian didn't have a chance with the 9mm rounds, especially with no armor.

Ron saw him clearly, and understood what they were up against. The black clothing, heavy tactical vest, helmet and gas mask meant they were some sort of special operations unit... kind of like SAS or SO19. A couple of his friends were SO19 officers and wore body armor on their operations... the newer stuff that would stop even most rifle rounds. Hell, he wore some on some of their more daring adventures as well. But... body armor didn't protect the face. As the operative was checking his downed target, Ron popped out and let the P99's sights fall on his face. The pistol kicked in his hand and the operative fell to the floor. He ducked back into the alcove, motioning to Sergey. He pounded his gun hand against his chest.. their signal for armored foes. Sergey nodded as the other operatives started firing again... they weren't going to make it easy.

The experienced Spetznaz operative was cut from the same cloth as these men. Even though their tactics were sound, there were always ways out of a sticky situation. The Russian stuck the barrel of his rifle around the corner and blazed away indiscriminately... even cover fire like he was laying down could kill if he got in a lucky shot.

Ron completed their tactic, popping out from cover once more to quickly assess the situation. Three of the gas-masked bastards were down, squirming on the floor... obviously victims of a couple of hits. The Brit raised his Walther once more and fired, hitting another one in the face. The second operative fell as Ron ducked back behind the cover of the rough-hewn rock wall. He signaled to Sergey again... two kills designated by drawing his gun hand across his throat, twice.

The Russian nodded once again and poked his rifle around the bend, only to receive a spat of incoming fire... the rounds slamming into the rock; stone chips nicking at his face. With a spitting curse he withdrew... they had no grenades to counteract what he was sure would be an advance.

Ron had an idea that took form as Sergey withdrew. He slid the P99 back into its holster and grabbed the AKSU. The shortened rifle would be impossible to control with only one hand, but it would also be a lot more firepower than the handgun could provide. With a grim look on his face, he poked the stubby barrel around the rock edifice and pegged the trigger.

The AKSU bucked and squirmed in his hand as the rifle's legendary reputation for being an unselective bullet hose was put to the test. It was hard even keeping the weapon in his hands, let alone try to bring it to bear at a target. However, the series of curses and 'Take cover!' cries he heard meant it was doing its job nicely.

Sergey wheeled around the corner to see two of the SpecOps guys turning around, facing an unknown threat from the rear. He heard one's voice quite distinctly. "Contact, one hostile, armed to the teeth!" As Sergey leveled the G36 at the group, they all took cover, firing behind themselves. "Got him!" another cried.

The ex-Spetznaz lieutenant took advantage of their distraction and moved forward, ducking behind a smaller rock alcove while still holding his rifle. As one of the soldiers popped up to face him, the Russian let him have it. The G36 barked its deadly song down the corridor and shoved a 5.56mm round into the operative's face... sending him to the ground, permanently.

The others kept behind their positions.. a smart thing to do considering the short distance and the fact the Russian's rifle was outfitted with a scope. However, something drew their attention... again. "He's getting up! Fire!" Once more the echo of their suppressed weapons rang out behind their cover... apparently to no effect. "He's taking out some kind of stick, and he's got a personal energy shield!"

Sergey felt a wave of nervousness fall over him as the SpecOps broke cover... yet the sight he saw next would elate and frighten the hardened Spetznaz commander. He fired at two of the four soldiers that tried to shoot him... dropping one with a burst to the face and disabled another with a burst to the stomach. As he turned to see what they were running from, his jaw dropped.

Brian stood there, an AKMS rifle dangling from a combat vest and a Dragunov slung around his shoulder... yet he was using neither. A long, ornately-decorated staff was balanced in his hands, and he was crouched in a stance Sergey had never seen before. A shimmering blue haze surrounded a globe of perhaps three feet around him which seemed to be the aforementioned energy shield... a few hastily-fired rounds from the SpecOps guys hit the shield and bounced off. The Russian looked closer and saw the entire right half of his comrade's face covered in blood... had he been hit?

Their ally sprung into action, the Marine leaping forward and thrusting the staff into one of the astonished enemy troopers. The staff punched through the high-grade body armor and impaled him... a kick later and the dying operative was pushed off the end of the weapon. All the while, the merc was yelling... in a language the Russian couldn't even decipher. The second trooper didn't last long. The staff slammed down on his outstretched P90 and knocked it out of his grasp, and then countered with a vicious slap to his temple... the cracking of bone could even be heard from his position several meters away.

Brian moved forward, spotting Sergey. He went into a combat stance, yet... stopped, staring at him with a strange expression. After speaking another strange word, he dropped to the floor unconscious. Sergey stood up, motioning for Ron to emerge from his cover... which he did. "What the fuck was that, mate? How'd someone tear through all those ass... Brian!" The former constable rushed forward to his friend, glancing from him to the fallen troops. "How the fuck did he do that?"

Sergey shook his head, scratching his chin shortly afterwards. He was as puzzled as Ron on this one. "I have no theories, Ron. He was speaking some strange language... and he killed two of those operatives with that hand to hand weapon." The Spetsnaz man motioned to the staff that dropped next to the unconscious Marine.

"You're telling me he didn't shoot back?" Ron asked, puzzled. "He's loaded to the gills, and I don't know how he did it!" With a sigh he glanced up towards the dead SpecOps guys. "This is getting stranger and stranger, mate. How the hell did he do that?" The former constable pointed to the dead troopers. If Sergey hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it. Taking on a group of highly-trained badasses like those guys was a sure ticket for suicide... especially if one was using just a spear.

Sergey shrugged, the ex-Spetznaz operative moving toward the group of fallen men. "We will have to ask him when he wakes up. If he wakes up." He was quick to add that part.. Brian had taken a nasty blow to the head.. looking for all the world like a bullet crease. He was also well-armed, and the appearance of a Dragunov slung over his back surprised him. How had he managed to get his hands on an SVD? He knew they didn't have time to wait for Brian to wake up, and even less time to let him explain his strange yet life-saving actions.

The Russian mulled over a few tactical scenarios, and knew they were very much on their own. They would be fucked if Sazbo found out about his dead lieutenants, and they had lied about Brian being killed in the car accident. However, first and foremost they were going to need hardware. Lots of hardware. Without saying a word he unstrapped the large duffel bag from Brian's shoulders and went to work... collecting the weapons and ammunition off the fallen SpecOps team.

The bag was quite heavy by the end of his rummaging... a grand total of three HK MP5A3 sub-guns, three FN P90 PDWs and two Colt M4 Carbines were added to the bag... along with a mixed bag of FN Five-seven and HK MK23 handguns. The weaponry, along with the myriad of ammunition to go along with them, caused the bag to bulge almost comically. However, considering what remained in the bag was quite possibly all the firepower they'd have to see them through... Sergey was willing to lug around all the dead weight.

He noticed Ron had been busy as well. The former police officer had collected Milorad's and Nikola's AK74s. While his bum arm would preclude him from using the rifles, he had them slung around his back, unloaded. The Serbians' ammo pouches were attached to his belt. The AKSU he was using utilized the same magazines... and he was now loaded for bear, so to speak. As he looked up to Sergey, he motioned to their unconscious friend. "I don't think he's going to be getting up for a while, mate. We're going to have to carry him."

Sergey nodded, bending over to grab a hold of the heavily-laden merc. "Exactly. I do have an idea, Ron. Get those armor vests off of those bodies... the ones that are still good. Take off their combat equipment as well. We may be able to fool them long enough to get out of here."

* * *

Jack Hilman led the remainder of his squad down the hall... this operation was pretty well fucked, and they still needed to reach the extraction point. Alpha Squad wasn't responding, and he was sure the Venom presence on this rock had taken care of them. On top of that, the Cerinian they were trying to find was missing. They were supposed to kill her; a simple in and out operation.

Adding to the complication was the fact there was at least one other armed human out there, and he was sure he or she wasn't exactly going to welcome them with open arms. At least they completed the secondary objective, which was to destroy the base's long-range communications system. The Venomites had only a skeleton crew on this outpost... mostly due to Scales' outrage at an alien army taking up space on 'his' territory. With communication options to their massive battleship cut as well as their orders to keep complete radio silence unless absolutely necessary, this ensured Venom or Cornerian troops wouldn't be involved.

Still, Hilman knew things wouldn't be that simple. Major Callahan was underestimating the Venom troops... and the Serbian gunrunners working for Meran, as well. Having other people under his command was _not_ a good thing. The gunrunners might be very competent soldiers, and could easily kill more than a few Black Strike operatives. The former Marine lieutenant cursed softly, the sound muffled by the black rubber gas mask encasing his face. The next few weeks would be hard. With the comm lines to their Supercruiser cut, Black Strike had to eliminate both the Venom remnant as well as deal with Scales' army. The massive battleship would be taken care of once Meran sought out and collected the Krazoa spirits... ghostly beings that basically kept the planet intact.

Time was against them. He led his nine remaining soldiers through the corridors, all of them with weapons at the ready. Hilman had brought along some insurance for this run... fearing an actual full-fledged firefight, he had taken a suppressed FN P90 to save weight, versus his usual M4. However, the decreased weight of his primary weapon allowed him to drag along the weapon he now had in his hands.

The M60E3 machine gun he was lugging wasn't something a typical Black Strike member carried. Mostly meant for assault teams, the massive automatic packed a lot of firepower in its heavy package... as well as a lot of noise. More than a few questioning glances were given at his choice for a backup weapon, but he wasn't about to go into a fight undergunned. Its 7.62x51mm cartridge was potent enough in a battle rifle, but fitting it to a machine gun made it a feared weapon in close quarters.

The team ran around a corner, simply following the path to their extraction point... and almost literally stumbled into their enemy. His remaining troops were battle hardened pros from a multitude of different elite backgrounds... Special Forces, secret police, SWAT teams, and more than a few pro mercs that went back into the fold of a government employer. None of them showed any fear as they saw the large group of Venom soldiers, all brandishing their laser carbines.

The three at the forefront, however, surprised them. Two men and one woman were scrambling for cover, dressed in business clothing, albeit rumpled and ragged. All of them were carrying AK74 assault rifles... and they were leading the charge of the Venomians. Hilman reacted automatically, not even bothering to aim the M60... he just pegged the trigger and let the big gun speak for him. He knew these people were the Serbians, and Callahan had ordered him to 'take care' of them if he had the opportunity.

The machine gun, in comparison to the muted reports from his team's suppressed weapons, was deafening. He saw three Venom soldiers fall under the weapon's heavy blows, and the Serbian woman fell like a puppet with its strings cut. Years ago, Hilman wouldn't have been able to shoot a lady, but his time with Black Strike had stripped most of those reservations from his mind. He had a job to do. From behind an outcropping of rock he heard a scream... one everyone around recognized as a scream of pain and rage... the scream of a man that was about to become a very nasty threat.

The Venom troops struck, most of them firing back with their laser rifles. The Black Strike operatives took cover... their highly classified body armor could stop most rifle rounds with ease, but the lasers the Venomites fired were only slightly inconvenienced by the best human ballistic armor money could buy. The fact that most Venom anti-laser armor was equally ineffective against just about any bullet evened the playing field, but not by much. They had more men, and more firepower.

Hilman looked behind himself to see that most of his team was still up and fighting... most. One man... he couldn't even tell who he was with the combat gear on, was dead on the deck, and one more stifling a moan of pain... he was shot in the leg. He noticed the blood streaming from the wound, and only then heard the chatter of AK fire coming from above. The Serbians were joining the fight, and they were the ones to worry about. The operative lifted the heavy M60 over his cover and pulled the trigger... the M60 laying down a heavy, thick blanket of suppressive fire. They wouldn't last too long under this sort of resistance, so he keyed the gas mask's internal mic with a flick of his tongue.

"General retreat! Take alternate pathway to extraction point, on the double!"

* * *

Nikolai Sazbo was beside himself with grief, as he glanced to Karina's broken body sprawled only mere yards from him. Rage and pain shot through his mind as he watched the Venom troops advance. Draza stood up and fired his Kalashnikov at the black-suited troopers, whoever the Hell they were. Right now he didn't care. All he cared about was making them pay... especially that damned machine-gunner. If he could disable the damned coward, he would show him a long, painful death... one that would leave him begging for the bullet he deserved. With the rage coursing through his heart, he stood up and started firing, the AK feeling feather-light in his hands as he swept the troops he could see with a long burst.

They fired back with their sound-suppressed weapons, but Sazbo didn't care. All he cared about was killing them. They had taken his beloved Karina away, and he would make sure they went to Hell to meet him. He saw Draza fall out of the corner of his eye... spurring his rage onward.

He didn't notice the troopers that got back up as he rampaged forward, nor the bolts of light that the alien animal soldiers fired flashing past his head. His sight was fixated on one of the men that stood up from cover, hefting that evil M60 machine gun. With an almost inhuman roar he charged, aiming his rifle at the man and opening up. The AK cracked, sending the guy to the dirt.

Another trooper targeted Sazbo, aiming his MP5 at the enraged Serbian. Sazbo growled and placed the sights of his AK over the gas mask the man wore. It would spell a quick death as the gunrunner was faster, adrenaline and rage fuelling his fire. The Kalashnikov cracked in his hands, the trooper tumbling to the ground as the others started to run back down the corridor they came from.

Sazbo started to follow, but a soft moan carried to his ears and he stopped. The moan carried through again, and he looked to his side. Karina tried to move, her arm stretching out for the cover she never reached. A cold flush carried over his body as he dropped his rifle and ran over to her. "Medic over here, now!" he roared, glancing at the Venom troops that were starting to advance.

One of them, a fox creature that bore a strange red symbol on his right arm, knelt down to the two humans... disgust apparent on his features... disgust that even Sazbo could detect. "Oh, one of you got hit, hm? I thought you could fight better. At least you're alive to learn from your mistake."

Sazbo growled, pointing to Karina. "She's still alive. Save her." He fixed the vulpine with an ice blue stare... one meant to intimidate, yet he could see no sign of the fox's backing down. He wasn't sure why they were pushing them aside... all he knew was that there was a chance to save her. "Now!"

The medic shrugged, pointing towards the few sprawled bodies of Venom soldiers that littered the stone corridor. "If I have supplies left, I might. I'm going to take care of my comrades, first. Teach you to stay out of the line of fire next time." With a scoff the fox stood up, rushing back to one of the fallen Venom troops... leaving Sazbo there.

He pulled Karina closer, her rasping breath slowing with each passing second. He wasn't a medic, but he had been near enough dying comrades to know that because of the medic's attitude she was past the point of recovery. She stared up at him with fading eyes, her lips making one final statement to him. Sazbo placed his hand on her cheek, nodding to say as if he understood. "I love you too. You will be avenged." With a heavy heart, he slowly laid her back onto the stone floor... his grief and rage quickly being replaced with cold, calculating hatred.

The vulpine medic was bent over one of his fellow soldiers, his paws pulling a stimkit out of his medical bag. His supplies were running low, and he was sure he made the correct his choice. The life of a squadmate, or the life of an alien? He didn't realize until the last second that the decision did in fact cost a life... his own. He heard the footsteps approach from behind him, and he glanced up. "I'm busy, like I told you. I'll get back to you aliens when..."

The fox never finished his sentence. He did, however, see Sazbo approach... his Springfield XD held tightly in his right hand. The Serbian didn't even bother to aim, the weapon pointing straight at the alien fox's head. The gunrunner pulled the trigger with the calculating efficiency of a machine... the 9x19mm hollowpoint round slamming through the Venom medic's skull, splattering the soldier he had been trying to help with his own blood.

Sazbo spat on the corpse. "Ungrateful dog. Burn in Hell." As he closed his eyes he slid the pistol back into its holster. The wounded weren't worth wasting bullets on. With luck, they'd die as well. He walked back to Karina, picking her rifle up from off the floor... gingerly undoing the belt around her waist that held her extra magazines... before picking his AK74 up, as well. The rifles' stocks were folded and he grasped one in each hand. Sazbo then stalked out into the open, behind the group of advancing Venom soldiers...

* * *

Brian slowly started to wake up, stirring a little bit at first. The headache he had rivaled anything else he had over the past few days... he would have been thrilled to have that hangover than this. He felt... heavy, and he felt... hot. He wasn't sure what was going on. He wasn't dead; he could feel his breath rasp in his ears... a little loudly for what he could remember being normal. He could feel that he was propped up against something.. a wall of some sort.

Unsure of what was going on, he kept his eyes closed, allowing his other senses to do the work. The tightness around his face and the amplified quality of his breath suggested he was wearing a gas mask... that was strange. He could also feel that he was wearing a helmet, and some sort of armor... heavy armor. He twitched his right hand, feeling along his right thigh. He felt a pistol in a thigh-mount holster, and he dared to wrap his hand around it. The grip was instantly familiar... he was wearing his old, trusty P14. How the hell did he get it?

His eyes snapped open, looking through the twin lenses of a gas mask... he was right about that. He was in one of the corridors in the Venom base, wearing armor and a gas mask, and with his old handgun. Things were getting strange... very strange. Brian slowly pulled his old trusty workhorse out of the holster and checked it... the old .45 was loaded. Something didn't sit right with him as he stood up, keeping the P14 at the ready. His AKM was missing, but he spotted the Dragunov lying next to him... which was promptly grabbed and slung upon his back. He had to get out of here, and quickly. The mysteries could wait.

Brian stopped as he heard voices coming from behind him. He wheeled around, the P14 tracking and its sights falling upon two other gas-masked figures that walked up from behind. Both of them were heavily armed... one with the AKM he had been using, the other with an AKSU-74... but had one arm in a sling. "Drop your weapons, both of you!" he shouted, the gas mask giving his words an eerily muffled quality. "Hands on your heads. Do it!"

Brian stood in shock as one of them answered back... it was Ron. "Jesus, mate! Lay off the sugar! Do a little thinking before you wave that thing around, next time." The former Marine blinked, sliding his pistol back into its holster. "You've got a little bit of explaining to do, mate... how the hell did you kill two of these guys with a damned pointy stick?"

Brian reached behind him, feeling the profile of Krystal's staff still snug in the back-mounted holster he had it in. It felt... tacky. As he withdrew his hand, his fingers were coated with blood. "What do you mean that I killed those guys? What guys?" He was very confused, now.

Sergey chimed in right then. "Somehow, you managed to generate some sort of bullet-stopping energy shield which allowed you to not get cut down by these SpecOps soldiers. You routed them enough for us to take care of most of them... but you also managed to kill two of them with that... staff." Brian's comrade motioned behind him, pointing to a pile of bodies they had stacked behind a larger rock outcropping. "You were also yelling in some strange language... neither Ron nor I could figure out what the hell it was, let alone what you were saying."

Brian blinked at them, remaining speechless. What the _hell_ happened here? How could he have done that... did Krystal's staff possess them? He was going to get those answers, and toting around an object that may very well have possessed him wasn't something he relished. "I have no idea, but I know who might have those answers."

Ron shrugged his good shoulder, pointing down the corridor. "Fat lot all of that will do us. We're stuck here with no way out. Nikola and Milorad are dead, and Sazbo's going to kill us when he finds out. We've got no bloody way out of here. Between these SpecOps, what's left of Sazbo's gang, and maybe these bloody cartoon aliens... we're dead. Hell, those aliens are probably like Superman... bullets bouncing off of advanced armor and all of that shyte. These SpecOps are bad enough, but the aliens?"

Brian shook his head. "The aliens don't stand a chance. I've put several down." He chuckled at the memory, the sound coming out grimly through the gas mask he wore. "Fuck, their armor can't even hold up to a low-powered pistol round." He motioned to the large bag Sergey was carrying. "The SpecOps' hardware, I'm assuming?" At Sergey's nod, he motioned down the tunnel. "I've got a ride lined up for us. Don't bother about the details until we get there... I don't have time to explain." He then pointed to the AKM that Sergey carried. "Mind if I snagged that back from you?"

The former Spetznaz commando shrugged and passed the rifle over, as well as the weapon's magazines. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice... only seven-six-two rifles we have were in your possession. What devil gave you those?"

Brian shrugged. "Found 'em in Sazbo's car. Somehow these aliens got a hold of it, and afterwards I came across the goodies." He stopped for a moment, a nagging presence at the back of his mind trying to make itself known. His brain was playing plenty of tricks on him today, and the suspicion that the events of the past few days was eroding his sanity came to play. He decided to ignore it... but then it was far too late to react.

Instantly, the three mercs saw a group of men round the corner... eight of them, all with the same type of armor and gas masks as they were wearing. At their pace they were running from something, and they were not about to let them get in the way. The lead man, sporting a damn M60 machine gun of all things, halted and leveled the weapon at them. The three knew they had made a fatal mistake.

"It's not them. Open fire!" Brian's brain somehow recognized the muted voice, even as he was struggling to bring up his AK in time. It was a futile effort. They were unprepared, and they were going to die. Snippets of his life flashed before his eyes... and a calm thought settled across his mind. He hoped Matthew would have enough presence of mind to not wait and get themselves out of there... he failed to help Krystal, but he was for damn sure not wanting it to be in vain.

The M60 the man held roared its death song... Brian felt himself being punched in the gut... hard, and several times. The armor might have taken it, but his senses were reeling as he fell in slow motion. He watched his friends crumple before him, victim of the lone man with the machine gun.

For yet another time Brian blacked out... yet the time he spent dazed was quite short. He felt a pair of hands grab the helmet off his head. "Let's see who the hell you are, imposter." The voice sounded... like someone he knew, in a time long ago and a past far left behind. As he thought this, those hands grabbed the gas mask and yanked. The left side of his face flared with agony as it happened... he felt the blood beginning to flow down his cheek as if someone had turned on a faucet.

His eyes snapped open, staring into yet another gas-masked face. The hazel eyes that stared into his bore anger... and then recognition. The voice behind it was then recognized. The man behind that mask had a hell of a lot to answer for. "How the _fuck_ did you get here, Lancing?" He was shaken, almost violently.

Brian, however, had enough strength for a response. "I should... be asking you the same, you fucking traitor. Killed my friends, Hilman... you bastard." His eyebrows narrowed and he gathered up the courage to spit... the blood-filled saliva splattering itself right into the eyepiece of his former CO's gas mask.

Hilman backed up, dropping what was once a former comrade in arms. His right hand grabbed the FN Five-Seven pistol that rested in a holster at his side, yet one of his men stopped him with a hand settled over his shoulder. "No time, sir. They're coming, and they're pissed. The other ones you shot are dead... leave him for the Venom trash." With a reluctant nod, Hilman turned to Brian. "You're in way over your head, Sergeant. Pray they kill you before we ever find you again." With that the trained killers rushed forward down the hall... leaving a dazed... and pissed... Brian Lancing behind.

The merc tried to shake away the cobwebs and the stabs of grief and guilt which settled in... he had practically led the only friends he had here to their deaths. An instant changed everything, and even in a line of work where they all stared Death in the face it came as a shock... and a heavy burden to bear.

The unmistakable romping sound of boots on the floor came as a stark reminder to Brian... he was going to need to move or he wasn't going to be around long enough to grieve. He stood up, his chest flaring up now, in perfect tempo with his head. He was dazed, disoriented... but he was going ot have to fight. He found himself thanking the rough-hewn rock walls of the corridor as it allowed him another decent ambush spot, one he reached as the figures that were giving chase to Hilman rounded the corner.

The Venom soldiers all brandished strange-looking laser rifles as before, but were clothed only in the red jumpsuits like Matt had appropriated a few hours ago. Brian still had his AK, he still had his ammo, and he was going to shoot his way out of this. The lead element spotted him and dropped to their knees, ready to fire.

The merc beat them to the punch. The AK roared like an unleashed beast, spitting fire and brass in a defiant song as he opened up. At this range he was simply going to spray the hall down, take as many down as he could; make them take cover so he could get in some more precise fire. The rifle bucked against his shoulder as he saw the Venomians' front line fall.

The rest fell back behind the corner, sticking laser rifles and pistols out from wherever the could, firing off florescent green and red bolts at the solitary merc. A cry came from their ranks. "Only one of them, just pin him until the other ones show up!"

The AK's mag ran dry as he started to fire back, the laser bolts flashing around him. He did not want to get hit by any of them, even with the armor which had just saved his life mere seconds ago. The Dragunov was useless in close quarters, and he didn't have enough time to reload the AK, so he drew the P14. The merc hastily lay down a few rounds as cover fire, causing most of those laser guns poking around the corner to draw back. Over the din, he heard the cry again. "Hey, you! Take care of your 'friend' around the corner! Get to it!"

They were going to send someone in. Brian had to be prepared, but he was wondeirng about the 'friend' comment. He poked his head around his cover, aiming the P14 around the corner... expecting anything to come his way.

The unmistakable sound of gunfire roared from behind the corner, as well as panicked screams. Did Hilman double back? No... they were running from the Venom soldiers... who were being caught in some kind of crossfire. As he thought this a few broke and ran around the corner, apparently escaping something and trying to pin him down with laser fire. Brian's .45 spoke for him, sending the few stragglers down to the dirt.

The gunfire abruptly stopped, and was replaced by a few laser blasts. Those laser blasts were answered by the short, echoing pops from a handgun. Someone human, had to be. But... who? Brian quickly slapped a fresh mag into the P14... he was going to have to act quickly if the guy turned out to be hostile... but was once again in for a shock as the man rounded the corner.

It was Sazbo.

* * *

Brian was cursing his luck again and again. At least he hadn't shot his former Serbian boss on sight, nor was his boss shooting at him. Neither of them said anything as they holstered their handguns and put their hands up in disarming gestures. It was a silent treatment. Sazbo was glaring at him, and he was glaring at Sazbo.

The Serbian finally broke the silence. "They said you were dead." That alone spoke volumes. Both men knew that the only thing that kept them from killing each other was the fact they were alone... and stuck between the rock and the hard place their current situation put them in.

"Maybe I'm harder to kill than you think, Nikolai." Brian growled, glancing down toward his dead friends. "You know that the stupid don't survive... and most of the time the smart don't, either."

Nikolai caught the fact that one of the bodies on the floor was wearing a sling... and he thought he could see his other comrades down on the ground up ahead. Yes, they were the only two people that survived. Yet, the arrogant American had a point. "Yes... survival. Survival... and killing those cowards."

"Getting home is more like it. Hil..." He caught himself. "Those bastards can rot here. I've lost my friends. Fuck, I want to go home.. neither of us wanted this. Keep your damn money if you can find it."

The look Sazbo gave him was.. surprising. "Money is no longer my concern. Killing... them, is. Especially the bastard with that machine gun. Karina must be avenged." The fire behind Sazbo's eyes caught him, then. Karina had been killed. He knew they were lovers. He didn't blame him... he felt much the same way when... no. He swore never to think about that.

Brian nodded. "Alright. You're saying your mean as well as Karina were killed. My friends were killed." He paused to point down the corridor. "The man that killed our comrades was a former officer of mine. Do not ask me how the hell he got here. I am still trying to figure it out."

"We will find out right before I cut his heart out." Sazbo growled. "We must hurry. If they are boarding a spaceship, we must be on it." As he said this, he moved down the hall.

Brian sighed, taking the great task of grabbing the bulging duffle bag that had been dropped by Sergey. He left the rest of his friends' possessions alone. He was going to be above graverobbing his own damn friends. As Sazbo stalked down the hall, he reloaded the AK. "You're showing a hell of a lot of trust for someone who might just be apt to put a few holes in your back."

Sazbo shook his head. "I also know you well enough that you will not do that. You had the opportunity a year ago, and you will not do it now." The Serbian patted the stock of his own AK for good measure. "You will remember that you are only a tool, nothing more. Once we get back to our home, we will part ways. If I ever come across you again, I will kill you. Understand?" The calmness in his voice chilled even Brian.

"Yeah. Crystal clear." Brian very well understood what had just transpired. A truce, to be held until they reached Earth._ If_ they reached Earth. Until then, he was sure he would be the only one he could trust... the only one he could look out for. Matt wanted to get home, and he didn't blame him. Krystal meant well, but she was the means to an end. He'd make sure she'd get through it safely. After that, he was gone. This damn trip meant dead friends as well as a sorely lacking retirement account, but he didn't care anymore.

Sazbo led the way... Brian was disoriented from all the fighting and getting knocked around and had no idea where the damn exit was anymore. Plus, he lost the comm device that allowed him to get a hold of Matt. He clenched the AK as well as stumbled under the heavy load of the duffle bag... what the hell had Ron and Sergey stashed in there, anyway?

They made very good time, even though they had to duck past several Venom patrols, angry and shouting. The darkened mine shafts made it easy to do so, and even though Sazbo had revenge on his mind he knew they needed to get on the SpecOps' spaceship. Soon, however, they were standing at the entrance of the mines... looking at the forboding atmosphere outside.

Sazbo swore in his native tongue as they rushed out into the blinding snow. "Hurry up, boy! I will not wait for you!" He moved forward, only then sliding the AK from its sling. The cold, biting wind and the blinding snow were mere inconvieniences to him, now. He was going to find the bastards... then they would pay.

Brian hung in behind as they pressed forward. The Serbian was bull-headed, that much he knew from working with him. It was a trait that he could find admirable... if they hadn't found themselves on opposite sides of the same coin. He never lost track of the reality that they were enemies. He squinted, making sure he remembered the troop transport Krystal was on... and finally spotted it when all Hell broke loose again.

The snow let up in a brief gust, Sazbo's eyes settling onto the horizon... the blinding snow made it difficult. He thought he saw something in the distance, then a flash... sniper! He fell into the snow as he heard the cracking sound of a bullet whiz past his ear. They were at a disadvantage, but the glare of the snow would make them a much harder target. He fervently wished he had brought along the PSO-1 scope he kept on hand for the AK74... or if he had the Dragunov he stashed in the Audi... lost for all... wait. His adrenaline-fueled rage made him overlook the fact that Brian was sporrting their 'heavy' AKM... as well as that Dragunov. "Sniper, boy!" he called.

Brian was already well ahead of him. As he dove for the cold, cold snow he was already snatching the sniper rifle off his shoulder. The movement would have to be quick, especially since they were looking through scopes. He planted the rifle to his shoulder, and tried to acquire his targets.

Two men were standing up... firther in the distance he could spot Hilman and his team booking it. The snipers were about to bug out... thinking they had hit Sazbo, probably. Not this time. Brian swung the scope's integrated rangefinder over the man... a good four-hundred yards away. He judged the distance, placed the chevron-styled crosshair a little bit above the man's head... and pulled the trigger.

The Dragunov barked and slammed into his shoulder. As soon as he brought the scope down he could tell it was a hit. The man he had fired at was down on the ground... whether he was dead or merely winged in the armor he wasn't sure. He wasn't about to press his luck. "Second ship to your left!" he called out to Sazbo. "Not theirs, but we need to get out of here!"

Sasbo stood up, glancing towards his former employee... he was rushing forward with the sniper rifle still firmly entrenched in his hands. "You expect to fly that damn thing out of there, after them?"

"No!" Brian called back, reaching the ship and banging on the rear hatch. "We've got a pilot, and we're going to fucking regroup and take them out when we have the advantage!"

"Bullshit, Lancing." Sazbo growled. "We will lose them if you play this game!"

Brian shook his head. "I don't like you, Sazbo. You don't like me. But, if we're going to get through this we're going to need all the help we can get. I have a possible ticket home... but we need to get that situated. Then, you can go pursue your death wish if you want."

The Serbian affixed him with a glare that could have melted steel, but he remained silent. He would hold to his bargains... the one he gave Lancing, and the other he gave to that blue fox. He would eliminate that SpecOps squad, and then he would track down and kill that female blue fox... after that he would think long and hard about ditching the American here... or killing him when his usefulness ran out.

Brian banged on the hatch again, and jumped back when it opened... revealing a very haggard-looking Matt, the stun baton clenched in his paws. His eyes widened as he recognized Sazbo, and the Serbian recognized him. "What is going on?" he managed to spit out.

"Long story." Brian replied, already hauling himself up the short ramp and into the hatch. Sazbo silently followed suit. The interior of the ship was warm and dry, at least.

Matt rushed forward into the cockpit, the two humans in tow.It would be the safest place on the ship if it was boarded... but the humans were very, very well-armed. They may be able to repel a boarding if the Venomians got their heads out and started after them. "No time to strap in. I've got the lift sequence started." He offered no firther explaination as he fell into the seat, his paws dancing over the controls.

Sazbo felt his stomach lurch as the ship tilted up, and then over the rest of the collection of Venom craft outside the base. The main viewscreen showed the front of the base, now swarming with Venom troops like so many ants. They had escaped just in time... him, Lancing, the strange fox... and... his eyebrow arched as he glanced over to Lancing... who was taking that staff out from behind his back... placing it back next to another blue fox who was strapped to a gurney and surrounded by medical machines. He took a closer look at the other fox creature... and knew she was his target.

Sazbo would be able to kill two birds with one stone... when the time came.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes: Well, another update. I'm sorry it took this long, but I had major, major computer trouble not so long ago. Ended up getting a secondhand Dell XPS M1730 laptop; easily the best machine I've ever had. I'm in the midst of getting all my stuff transfered off of dead computers, but I did find the latest chapters I had been working on. I have also lost my cat, and that particular blow has been hurting quite a bit. I'm prolly not going to be releasing anything after this for a while; I need time to recover. Sorry, guys.**

**Special thanks to JrFalcon345 for editing/proofreading on this one. I am in your debt.**

Chapter 19: Safe Haven.

"Emerging from Slipspace in five minutes, Fox." Slippy's voice cut through the silence on the _Great Fox's_ bridge like a knife. "The probe I launched a minute ago is going nuts. There's enough debris out there that we could retire well by staking a mining claim on this place!"

The _Great Fox's_ resident engineer was referring to their standard procedure; launching a long-range sensor probe before hitting an unknown area to 'scope' out the details before they exited Slipspace. The ship's main sensors were limited to a radius of ten thousand kilometers while in transit. While on land ten thousand klicks was a massive distance; in space, especially at their speed, it was analogous to flying blind.

Fox nodded as he looked at his laptop's main display. The planet really _was_ a mess. Along with the four massive hunks of land floating in orbit- _'Creator knows how they still have an atmosphere or even decent gravity...'_- Sauria was surrounded by an artificial asteroid field the likes of which he had never seen before. The vulpine wasn't surprised that their sensors had trouble getting a good look at the planet. The fact there was so much background 'noise' from the 'asteroids' was the definite culprit. It would take a fairly skilled pilot just to navigate a ship to the surface, let alone enter combat in such tight quarters.

The knowledge he would have to go it alone came to mind. Fox was used to having Slippy and Peppy working in a backup role. The _Great Fox_ was simply far too much for each of them to handle alone, and even working together they had their hands full. ROB was a major help but the past few years of neglect left the android running at 67 of full capacity, last time he heard a status report. Their ship was undermanned and even minor things kept breaking down. Part of him wished he had Falco backing him up, but like Fara he had split for parts unknown. That was just the luck of the draw, it seemed.

Peppy was sitting in his usual spot on the bridge, yet he seemed to be listening intently to the comm station. Fox arched a brow at this, but decided to let it be... Peppy knew what he was doing, and his instincts were usually right. As he turned to look at the swirling, colorful chaos of Slipspace, the older hare called Fox's attention.

"I'm getting some comm traffic from the planet, Fox. It's faint and I can't really make it out, but they're broadcasting on an old Venom channel. There's a tailload of traffic down there, Fox... something's really causing a stir!" The hare punched a button and the bridge filled with sound.

The static drowned out pretty much everything, but the three could hear voices... all excited, and some fraught with panic. All of them knew those were the sounds of battle... something really was going on. Fox made a split-second decision, and he turned to Slippy. "Drop out of Slipspace _now_, Slippy. I want some distance between us and whoever it is out there. The more time we have to react, the better."

Slippy nodded and hit a few buttons on the control panel in front of him, starting the sequence to shut down the Slipspace generators. The _Great Fox_ shuddered as its inertial dampers were strained... another extremely expensive repair waiting to happen... and then stopped. The swirling chaos of Slipspace was replaced by the familiar background of stars... and Sauria hung off in the distance, fairly hard to see without an amplified view.

Peppy struggled with the earpiece connected to the comm system, trying to glean any information about the broadcasting that was still furiously going on. The static was still drowning almost everything out, a few scattered, garbled words the only indication that anything sentient was on the airwaves. "That asteroid field around the planet is wreaking havoc with the comms, Fox. If we get closer we might be able to get some more...

"Fox!" Slippy interjected, pointing a finger to one of the screens in front of him. "Sensors are showing a group of ships on screen. One of them is vectored to intercept us, and it looks like the others are following! I'm doing a check right now... Venom transponders!" Fox blinked... the _Great Fox_ was a feared ship in the eyes of Venom troops, especially after Star Fox defeated Andross all those years ago. A small group of even the most gung-ho Venomians would usually turn tail and run if they showed up to a party... something was wrong here.

Peppy winced and held the earpiece away from his ear. After a split second of annoyance, he fiddled with the control panel. "We're being called... on our private encrypted frequency? Fox... does anyone else have this number?" Peppy scratched his head for a moment as he looked to the younger vulpine.

The situation was getting even stranger. Their private frequency hadn't changed in years, and Slippy himself had designed the encryption algorithm along with Fara's brother, Matt. The private channel had been a major school project of Matt's, and he swore up and down that the encryption would be neigh near impossible to break without knowing everything about the system. "Put 'em on audio, Peppy." Fox sat back and punched some keys on his laptop, arming the ship's PLC cannons.. just in case.

All three members of Star Fox instantly found out who had broken Matthew Phoenix's pet encryption project by the first word that went through the speakers. Matt's voice came through loud and clear, although there was a slight sense of panic behind those words. "Guys! No time to catch up... I'm escaping a heavily armed Venom base in this rattletrap troop transport. I've got a seriously wounded vixen and two aliens on board. We need some help, pronto!" As he spoke, the transponder on the lead ship flashed, marking its position.

* * *

Matt jinked his craft to the left, narrowly avoiding the _Leech_-class boarding shuttle that tried to slam into the side of the stolen troop transport. While the Venom fleet stationed here had no large starships, presumably in order to avoid detection, the boarding craft could just as easily spell their doom. He cursed as he dodged another one... aiming his ship towards the _Great Fox._ Even though he knew the famous mercenary team was down to just Fox, Peppy, and Slippy... he was hoping they would break as soon as they saw a lone Arwing approach the group.

Their luck was incredible. The constant thought that they were screwed had flashed through his mind... they had no Slipspace drive, and at this rate their fuel would be exhausted long before Fara got her rattletrap freighter over here to help out. The only silver lining on the cloud was that the swarm of _Leech_ boarding craft and _Menacer_ fighters were not firing on them. They had to protect their precious cargo... the comatose vixen they had right next to them. Add that to the fact he could just about taste the tension between Brian and the other alien... they would end up killing each other before long, he would bet on it.

Seeing the flash of a ship exiting Slipspace well ahead and to the right almost brought a sigh of relief... Fara, Falco, and Katt would be saving his tail soon enough. He glanced at the profile of the ship and balked as he saw the familiar sight of the _Great Fox._ He made a beeline towards it and hailed them... that was less than a minute ago.

A solid _wham_ from behind shook the entire ship, almost sending the other, bald human tumbling to the floor. Matt paled... a _Leech_ had got them, its boarding party probably salivating in anticipation for revenge. "Get back there, we're being boarded. As long as we can get close to that ship over there we've got a chance."

Brian nodded, grabbing the rifle he had been using... looking towards the door. He opened it and glanced back towards Sazbo... who looked to be sliding towards Krystal's stretcher. "What the fuck are you doing? Get your ass out here and get ready to pour some fire on these guys!"

Sazbo grit his teeth... he had thought the distraction would have been enough to take his pocketknife and put a few slits in the oxygen tube that was feeding the vixen. The hopes of stealthily getting his target out of the way dashed, he nodded at the former Marine... making sure he didn't see the knife slip back into his pocket. "Just getting up, you idiot." he growled as he unslung his own AK, pushing past the door whilst grumbling.

Neither of the two humans knew what to expect. All they saw was the interior of the troop transport... precious little cover available in any case. Yet, they saw one of the rear access hatches move, and both men aimed their AKs at it. Whoever was going to be boarding their craft would be in for a very, very nasty surprise.

The Venom soldiers weren't ordinary troops. They were called in especially for this from a small outpost on one of the asteroids circling the Darkice Mines. These were Eradicators... feared elite troops; personally hand-picked by either Emperor Andross... or his successor, Andrew. There were only five... they only needed five to take over anything smaller than a light cruiser.

The Eradicators wore shimmering crimson spacesuits, even in the pressurized confines of the _Leech_ they rode in. The VE-SHA armor they wore was neigh near impervious to blaster fire, and it was assumed that it would hold up to the alien projectile weapons they faced. The door opened, and the aliens would soon meet their fate... cringing and screaming at the hands of the Eradicators.

They didn't count on highly-trained human mercenaries; mercenaries with equal or greater battle experience to the elite Venom force. As the door opened both Brian and Sazbo did not hesitate like most Cornerian troops would have... their rifles roared to life as the first two spacesuited giants walked onto the deck. A combination of 5.45 and 7.62mm bullets slammed into them, driving them into the ground.

Their gunfire stood little chance of penetrating, yet even good armor wouldn't render their users impervious to gunfire. The laws of physics still held true, and whoever was shot with a bullet would at least _feel_ the impact. Brian understood this well as the AKM he was firing slammed into his shoulder... his chest burning and protesting at the rough treatment. The five rounds Hilman hit him with earlier probably broke ribs... and enough of the same treatment towards even a heavily armored foe would stop their advance in its tracks.

This proved true, for the most part. Sazbo's 5.45mm weapon simply didn't have the punch that Brian's heavier rounds did... this was the main virtue of the older AKM in combat. It fired a heavier, less accurate round... but one that would punch through most light cover and body armor. The two Eradicators in the front were driven backwards by the gunfire, feeling as if they were taking hammer hits to their bare chests. Their LK-101 carbines fired back, but due to their bouncing around they didn't even come close to hitting either human. Yet, they were not out of the fight... they stood back up, shrugging off the pain... all five of them charged as a group.

Sazbo caught his wits. "Brian! Dragunov!" The much more potent 7.64x54mm sniper round would be needed, even though the rifle wasn't an automatic. To punctuate his point he dropped his AK74, snatching Brian's AKM out of his hands... leaving him no choice.

Brian understood what he meant as both of them split, evading the blaster fire that the Eradicators put down. He still had the Dragunov slung across his back... a situation that was soon remedied as he tried to flank them. Sazbo was doing the same... catching one or two with a short burst from the AK. The Marine wouldn't have time to aim... he just pointed the sniper rifle from his hip, catching one of the amored hulks off-guard. His back was turned to deal with Sazbo... and he pulled the trigger.

The Dragunov's report was even louder than the AK fire... and would be very well noticed. Still, Brian was surprised to see the armored fighter pitch forward, a fog of highly-compressed gasses shooting from the hole driven in its back... which soon turned into red mist as it mixed with blood. The sniper rifle was proving to be fine medicine indeed. He needed to tell Sazbo of his discovery... calling out in the smattering of Russian he actually knew. _"The back! Weak spot!"_

Sazbo nodded, ignoring the three Eradicators trying to take a bead on him and concentrating on the one that had turned on Brian. He let loose another short burst on the strange boxy apparatus on its back... the heavily armored soldier crumpled to the deck as he rolled out of the way of incoming laser fire.

Brian had them in the bag. He shouldered the Dragunov as another one turned around, firing and striking him in the chest. This time the spacesuit-wearing trooper was forced to the floor, and Brian went nuts. The remaining seven rounds were fired at the two Eradicators left standing... sending them down to join their friends.

Brian reloaded as Sazbo continued firing. However, a frantic call from behind them got their attention... as the few Eradicators left alive struggled to get back up. "Back in the cockpit, _now!_" Matt yelled. The two didn't waste a second thought; they rushed into the cockpit and shut the door.

Brian stumbled in to see a very sleek, angular craft... looked kind of like an X-wing from Star Wars... dart across their viewport. Mere seconds later the ship shuddered in the dead of space, almost deflecting off course.

Matt was busy keeping the ship going straight, but he did breathe a sigh of relief... uttering a thank you to the unseen pilot over the comm system. "Thanks, Fox... you saved our tails this time."

Sazbo blinked at Matt, yet still kept his ears open... he was sure those big armored freaks would be trying to beat down the door any minute. "What did you do?"

"Got an old friend flying interference. He shot the boarding craft off of this heap. Whoever was in that bay when he did it got their asses spaced. Not a very fun way to go." Matt shrugged, throttling down the _Eraser_ to a saner speed, angling toward the big craft which hovered an indeterminable distance away. The rest of their pursuers weren't stupid enough to get inside the range of the _Great Fox's_ PLCs, let alone engage the sole Arwing that rode alongside the stolen transport. They had won this game.

Brian stood next to Krystal's stretcher, making sure he kept an eye on Sazbo. He would never confront his rival about it, at least not directly, but he did see the pocketknife he was trying to conceal as he approached her earlier. He had no idea why he was aiming to kill her... but if he tried he was going to stop it. If he screwed up and she died... he was going to be stuck here. He didn't trust Sazbo at all... the Serbian was going to have his revenge against Hilman's group; vindicate his dead lover. That much was certain. He knew how the man operated... once he helped him to that goal, Sazbo was going to thank him with a bullet to the head.

In that moment, Brian knew that they weren't out of the woods yet... the two men were still very much enemies, and this was only a temporary truce. The only thing that had changed was the fact they no longer had allies.

As that ship grew closer, he wondered if that was actually true. Krystal _had_ played a very important role in his survival until she got almost killed. And, along with that... he had played a very important role in her own survival. With his enemy literally at his side, the only advantage he had was someone he could trust... and the blue-colored vixen was about the most trustworthy 'person' he had met on this insane trek through this alien planet. They could watch each other's back, and the fact she was a mindreader of some sort would prove invaluable.

Brian blinked those thoughts out of his head as they neared the gaping docking bay of the ship they approached. The ship was, well... huge. Sleek and angular as it was, with no point of reference near it he couldn't figure out how large it actually was... only that it was huge. The craft was built around four impossibly long wings, forming an 'X' shape. The hanger bay they were approaching looked large enough to hold a large jetliner... if his eyes weren't playing tricks, someone could park a damn 747 in there... it'd be a tight fit but you could do it.

They landed after the small spacefighter parked itself in the bay, the troop transport fitting itself in the large hanger bay with some room to spare. Brian could see two other fighters sitting next to the one that had landed. That one's cockpit was opening, and a red-furred fox stepped out of it... making a beeline for the troop transport.

Brian was so surprised about this that he didn't even notice the fact he was in an honest to God mothership. He was in space... technically, he was a damn astronaut. As he stood there, he felt something wrap around his hand... glancing down he saw Krystal's paw weakly holding on.

She looked up to him with eyes that were barely open. He gave her a smile and a little nod. "We're safe here... don't worry." As she heard that, she gave the smallest hint of a smile and collapsed back down into her stretcher, eyes slowly shutting.

Brian took a deep breath as he heard the main hatch open. He was ready to greet their new savior... and to defend a new friend from an old enemy.

* * *

Brian sighed as he glanced to Krystal, the vixen propped up in a hospital bed. She looked like she was peacefuly resting, a couple of IVs in her unmolested right arm and a tube feeding oxygen to her nose. Bandages covered her left arm entirely, as well as ran around her shoulder... reminding him of the close call they had on the planet almost two days ago. That had seemed so long ago, and he hadn't fared much better, either.

Three fractured ribs from deflected 7.62x51mm machine gun fire. Several deep gashes from a run-in with a Sharpclaw grenade. Several minor scratches as well as a gash above his right eyebrow from the BMW's airbag when they first flashed into Sauria... his right calf was mangled and raw from some big creature's acid spit, and the bandages around his head concealed the small furrow that came from a close call with a 5.7mm bullet.

On top of everything else, Brian trusted Sazbo about as far as he thought he could throw the bull-headed Serbian. He suspected his ticket home lay in killing Krystal, while his lay in keeping her alive. While that Fox fellow had locked up the multitude of firearms the two had collected from their fallen comrades and enemies, Brian managed to keep his P14 from the vulpine captain's grasp. The big .45 was tucked inside the waistband of his tattered dress pants and an extra magazine was kept handy in his combat vest's pocket... just in case Sazbo decided to renege on his deal.

He didn't doubt for an instant that Sazbo had kept some hardware... they just had to keep their weapons hidden from the Star Fox team, or whatever they were called. He was sure that the three who ran the ship would be pissed that they were armed, but he wasn't about to take any chances with his enemy free and clear.

The merc sat back in the chair next to Krystal's bed. He made sure he had an open view of the door, just in case he needed to have a decent line of sight. Brian was never the trusting sort. He was going to protect his way home with his life, if need be. The vixen might be a means to an end... but in a roundabout, messed up way, she was all he had. He dwelled on this as his eyes closed... falling into an unexpected slumber. He was so tired... tired of running on empty.

* * *

Something had fallen on him... ticklish and brushing his hand at first, then wrapping around it. The horrified thoughts at the dream he had faded to faint surprise as he opened sleep-blurred eyes. A blue paw was wrapped around his hand, and as he glanced up he saw Krystal looking at him... her eyes meeting his. She looked as tired as he felt, and her voice showed it. "Thank you. You got the Spellstone, and we made it out safely." The vixen paused for a moment, grasping his hand a little tighter... a pained expression on her features. "I... I'm sorry about your friends. You've lost so much because of this... more than I have realized."

Brian understood what she was saying. She knew about Ron and Sergey. She could read his mind, after all. While it was still a little discomforting, he really didn't want to fight it. "I know. My friends are dead. My former commanding officer is responsible for that, and so much more. When's it going to end, huh?" He spoke that last bit out of frustration, moving his hand away from the vixen.

Krystal shifted upwards on the bed, glancing down at him. The encounter with her parents in the Beyond actually helped somewhat; knowing they were finally at peace. The Cerinian didn't know what he would think about the Beyond, or that his friends were more than likely at peace now, just like her parents. His mental blocks were up, and all she could feel from the human was a mixture of sadness and hatred. She sighed, breaking the short yet awkward silence. "I... I don't know, Brian." While she had been linked to Brian and knew some of the story about their escape, it would be best to keep him talking. "What happened to us? I can sense bits and pieces, but I'm not sure how we got out of the... Venom base?"

Brian blinked, arching a brow at her. There had been a lot of unexplained shit that went down... especially Sergey's recollection of him taking out two SpecOps troopers with Krystal's staff. The Russian had never seen such hand-to-hand prowess before, and what he had supposedly done was far, far out of his league. That was confusing as hell, as well as the guiding 'voice' that was somehow squelched as soon as the two had reached the ship. "It's all fuzzy to me, too. All I remember is getting shot at and blacking out. Apparently I had received a nasty little lick here." As he described, he pointed to the bandage circling his head.

"However, when I came to... apparently I had taken on and killed two heavily armed and armored men with your staff and came out the victor as easily as I had simply wished them dead." He glanced over at her, puzzlement plainly visible in his expression. "I have no idea how I did that. And, there was this voice that seemed to be... giving me hints as we tried to make our way out of there... like it was my instincts moving at lightspeed." Brian looked back down at the floor, shaking his head with a sigh. "I have no idea what's going on. It feels like I'm going insane."

Krystal placed a paw upon his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. Even that much moving took a little effort, and she was surprised to find that she was almost winded at the effort. She was going ot have to take it easy for the next couple of days at least. "You're not going crazy, Brian. That was... me." Her ears flared a little pink; an obvious blush even though the human had no way of telling. "My staff allowed me to keep alive by joining my spirit with your lifeforce. I was able to keep watch over you, and when you were knocked out by the... bullet, I managed to take over your body." When Brian turned to face her, she stammered. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't want to see you killed."

The merc was confused about it all, to put it lightly. On one hand... yes, he was angry. Having his body taken control of by an alien he barely knew was something that would make anyone pissed. However... what if she hadn't? The battle with that Galdon thing would have been much more difficult and he could have easily been killed by the beast had he made a stupid mistake. There was also the grim reality that Hilman's group would have killed him had he not gotten up in time. Taking a deep breath, he glanced up towards her. "I understand why you did what you did. Really... I doubt if I could have gotten out of there alive without you."As he stood up he leaned over the vixen, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "Thank you."

Krystal hugged him back, genuinely surprised at the gesture of friendship the human offered so freely. Yet, he was sincere; she could see that radiating off of him in waves. Even through the pain of losing so many friends in so short a period of time, it was comforting one that would stick by her through these trials. "You're welcome... my friend." She added that part tentatively, almost cautiously.

Brian nodded his assent, taking a quick glance toward the door. "At least we can trust each other. We're going to need it, I'm afraid." At her puzzled look, he continued. "I had to make a pact with the devil to get out of there. Remember me telling you about the men that were chasing me on Earth?"

Krystal could tell what had happened. "That... Sazbo is here, with you?" She laid back, closing her eyes. Even though her abilities were muddled and most of her body still felt like pins and needles, she could tell something was wrong.

"Yea." Brian spat. "Right after Sergey and Ron were killed. Granted, he saved my ass, but... I've got my suspicions." With a sigh, he glanced over to her. "Listen... I'm going to need your... abilities. I need you to find out what is going through his head. But... we need to be the only ones to know about it. I think these people who rescued us are trustworthy, but right now we'd better play it safe and figure that the only ones we can fully trust... are each other."

The vixen nodded as she glanced to the door. "You think I'm in danger." It was a statement, not a question. It was obvious that Brian kept the understanding she might be able to help him get home a priority, but she also detected a hint of... duty in his thoughts. He was a friend that was going to protect her, and that set her heart at ease. She had chosen well... they _did_ have a chance of saving Sauria.

Brian turned away from her, yet nodded. "Yeah. I think he was trying to kill you while you were in that coma. We both need to be careful... this is a very dangerous man we're talking about, and he'll stop at nothing to do it if he so wishes."

Krystal struggled to sit up, the pins and needles feeling throughout her body intensifying. It even shot down her tail, as if she hadn't used her body in quite some time. Whether this was a side-effect of having her soul temporarily transfered to the staff or if it was simply the effect of the stun beam she was shot with... she would never know. "I'll be... fine. I just need to get up and walk around a bit." She began to throw the sheets off of her, but as she lifted them she balked, instinctively closing the white fabric around her. The blush she generated was intense, the insides of her ears turning bright red. "Uhm, Brian?"

The human glanced over to her, a quizzical expression on his face. "Yeah?"

The vixen pointed towards a small dresser in the corner... a dresser which held all of her belongings, including her loincloth and top. "I... I need my clothes." Then it was Brian's turn to balk, and his own blush was much easier than hers to detect.

"A... alright." He took a few strides to the dresser, gently picking up her attire before laying it on her bed. Immediately afterwards he excused himself and made his way out of the room. As he shut the door, he looked down the main hallway of the _Great Fox._ Just great... he could hear someone approaching down it.

Even better... it was Sazbo himself, the self-styled Serbian warlord making a beeline towards him. It took all of his willpower not to draw down and open fire... something he had been wanting to do. As he looked up, he growled. "What the hell do you want?"

Sazbo glowered at Brian, straightening his rumpled business suit as he did so. "The ship's captain, that Fox guy, wants us in their conference hall for a briefing." He pointed toward the door. "If that... fox creature is well enough to move, she is requested to come with us."

As if on cue, the door to the medbay behind them opened and Krystal padded out, her eyes falling on Sazbo. In a heartbeat, her somewhat surprised look changed to one of mild apprehension... something was wrong.

"We will go now." Sazbo motioned down the hall, but was actually stopped short by Krystal's voice.

"You can go. We will be behind just a moment. We need to talk... in private." She practically shooed the Serbian down the hall... giving a sigh of relief as he left, leaning against the door. The effort of walking was still a little difficult for her, but she was forcing her body to recover.

Brian looked back at her. "Something the matter?" She wanted to get Sazbo away from them for some reason... had she found out something about him?

Krystal nodded, her hazel eyes locking onto Brian's. Her voice was eerily calm as she gave the news. "He wants to kill me. He just hasn't found the opportunity to try, but I think he's armed... I can't really tell."

Brian shrugged, keeping a much closer watch down the hall. "This Fox fellow, the captain of this ship, took away all our weaponry. I'm packing as well, but nobody needs to know." He extended his hand to her and she willingly took it, allowing the former Marine to pull her to her feet. "Y'know, you shouldn't really be on your feet right now. You're going to need time to rest."

The Cerinian shook her head, although she did give a smile at her friend's consideration. "You said it best. We're going to need to be a team... and your suspicions about Sazbo turned out to be right. We're safer sticking together."

Brian nodded at her. "It's a solid enough plan. C'mon, I'll help you there." He shifted his weight so she was leaning on him. Once situated, they made their way towards the conference room.

* * *

In its almost ten years of existence, the _Great Fox's_ conference room was rarely used, and as such escaped most of the ravages of time and abuse the rest of the ship had received. Its large oval table was its dominating feature, and while it wasn't opulently outfitted, the appointments were nice. Seven of the table's fifteen chairs were currently occupied, which meant that all the living sentient beings on the _Great Fox_ were there.

Fox sat at one end of the table, taking a moment to survey the others gathered there. ROB stood off to the side, ready and waiting if he needed the robot's abilities; whether or not they were combat-related. ROB's short-range sensor package was still working, as well as his --they always thought of ROB as a part of the crew and not just a robot-- ability to remotely control the ships functions if need be.

Peppy and Slippy sat next to him. They were steadfast friends over the years, and he couldn't think of who else he would rather have in his corner. Since they were planning the liberation of an entire planet, they would be the ones giving him and the others the support they would need.

The presence of Matt surprised him. He almost felt embarrassed at having Fara's brother on board, especially after their failed engagement. However, he was also on the Cornerian Defense Force's payroll, and they both had a job to do. The fact that Matt was a genius with communications and data systems would be a major help; they had a stolen Venom craft and gleaming information from it would be key in helping them get rid of the Venomians.

Then there was Krystal. He couldn't help but be awed by the vixen's beauty, as well as her strength. This was the first time she had seen her up and about, but she was up and about after taking a stun blast to the back of her head. Nobody he ever heard of recovered from that, but there she was... sitting here to add her say to the briefing. She caught him looking at her, and offered him a polite smile. He gave her a sheepish grin in return, then looked to the final two members of their meeting.

The aliens were unlike any he had ever seen before. These 'humans' were a little unnerving. From what he had gleaned from Matt, the two were also mercenaries, but for some reason a massive amount of distrust ran between them. The younger alien, Brian, was always keeping a watch over the older one out of the corner of his eye, and Fox could tell that both of them were extremely dangerous. He had done the smart thing in taking away the miniature arsenal they had taken from the Venom base. Slippy had taken a look at the weapons.. all of them were projectile-based. They seemed archaic, but he had seen what they had done to the two Eradicators that were wedged in the _Eraser's _troop bay. Chemical firearms were extremely rare in the Lylat system, and as such anti-blaster armor wasn't designed to ward against bullets... only blaster fire and light fragmentation. He didn't want either of them to be handling those slugthrowers on his ship.

The older human was someone he had to watch. Matt told him, in private, that he was the one who killed the rest of his intelligence team. While that alone was enough to be able to throw the alien in irons and haul his ass back to Corneria to face trial, Fox also had to let his anger simmer. The fact of the matter was that this Sazbo character had information they needed; information that would help them get this planet back together again. The veteran pilot cleared his mind and focused on the task at hand.

"Alright.. we've got a much data as we can on Sauria, but if we're going to take it back we're going to need some more info from you." He glanced at the two aliens and Krystal in particular. "What exactly is going on down there?

The younger of the two aliens raised a hand before he began speaking, which surprised him. His courtesy and manner of speaking made it obvious he spent some time in his species' version of a military. "Far as I can tell, sir, there's three distinct groups vying for control of this place. There's the Sharpclaw, the Venom people you're talking about, and by what I can tell... a rogue SpecOps group."

Fox glanced at Peppy, who shrugged. That brought up a question. "A SpecOps group? What is that?" As he said this, however, ROB had sent a message to Fox's datapad. The young vulpine glanced at the pad, trying to keep a straight face when he read it.

The human sighed and glanced over to Krystal for a moment. She nodded at him and motioned to Fox, somehow spurring him on. "My country's government trains and fields small teams of elite covert soldiers to do work that they do not want other nations to know about. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but they are down there. " He paused for a moment, closing his eyes. "One of 'em is named Jack Hilman. That damn traitor killed my friends."

The other alien spoke up in an accent foreign to the Lylat residents present. It was strange enough that they spoke the same basic language in the first place, but even then it was apparent that other languages were used in their culture. "These men are highly trained and equipped. I am also highly trained and equipped, and wish to deal with them before I am sent back to where I came from."

That provoked a response from Brian. "First I heard about _that_ deal, Sazbo. Who'd you have to bend over for to get that kind of bargain? I'd think you'd have to sell your soul for it, but I forgot that you already did." Fox caught the insult. The two were _definitely_ not friends, and he could see a brewing situation get worse right before his eyes. With what ROB just told him, it was not going to be pretty.

Sazbo growled, his gaze shooting over towards Brian. His hands clenched and released, trying to dissipate some anger. "You insolent cur. You will curb your tongue immediately, or I will cut it out for you!" The Sebian lunged over the table, and Fox's paw wrapped around the grip of the blaster pistol he had hidden under the table. He was just about to bring it out...

...but he didn't need to. As Sazbo lunged, Krystal went into action. She was lightning quick, putting all of her energy into motion and grabbing onto the man's wrists. With a graceful spin, she had put him on the deck as quickly as he had ever seen any martial arts competitor ever do. He made a mental note... don't anger that vixen. "Calm yourself!" she hissed, sitting back down in her seat as if she had simply scolded a child. Seeing her do this in her tribal ensemble was pretty appealing, but he forced those thoughts to the back of his mind. They weren't here to flirt, even though he really wanted to.

Brian kept a close watch on Sazbo as he got up and slid back into his seat... the two exchanging some very nasty looks. As they continued to do so, Krystal looked at Fox, adding her story to the air. "This... SpecOps group as Brian calls it was responsible for the deaths of my parents and many Council families. They are being controlled by another Cerinian... one Meran Kentoc." Fox noticed Sazbo stiffen at the mention of his name... was the man working for the other Cerinian?

"So we have a military group of humans working for a Cerinian... fighting the Venom military for control of Sauria?" Peppy asked, adjusting his glasses as he looked to the three. "What about this General Scales and his band of Sharpclaw?"

Krystal had a ready answer for that, her tail swishing as if she were agitated just thinking about it. "Scales is working for the Venom group... but I'm sure if he saw an easy way to get rid of them to maintain his power, he would do it. He is not above killing to get what he wants."

Fox opened his mouth to form a reply, but he never got to it. A bright flash from the massive window to his right distracted all of them... the flash of a vessel exiting Slipspace. As he glanced at it, his ears perked up in curiosity, even though his paw worked the datapad; sending instructions to ROB to prepare for possible combat.As it was, the other craft almost ran into the _Great Fox._ It was their mistake, he glumly noted... they were sitting right on a Slipspace exit vector, but... there wasn't supposed to be any other craft in this sector.

The ship was laughably out of date, an ancient refitted freighter that looked almost a century old and fit for the scrapyard... and actually might have been pulled out of one or two. It was a heap... he could tell by the jagged cracks in the rust-covered paint and misaligned hull panels that its spaceframe was about done for... a few Slipspace jumps and they would be lucky if it hadn't shaken apart. They had also put in a hard run; the area around the refitted slipdrive was glowing.The aging craft had a bright, shiny logo on it... _Team Firestar._ 'Oh, great.' Fox thought. 'Another merc company jumping the claim.'

Matt suddenly had a sheepish expression on his face, but Fox never got to ask him why. The answer to his question was answered almost immediately as the comm system chimed... a voice all too familiar to him carrying through the conference room speakers. "I had a feeling you'd be here, Fox."

It was Fara.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 20: Back into the Fray.

This was the moment Fara Phoenix had alternately been hoping for and dreading. Call it female intuition, but whenever Pepper was involved with something big, he sent Fox. While a major part of her was hoping that they would have just swept in, got Matt the hell out of there and faded back into Slipspace without Fox even knowing... she also understood that a part of her was hoping she would run into him. They were struggling, but they were making it, and the feeling of vindication as she spoke over the comm was more than a little heady.

There was silence on the other end for a few moments, then Fox answered. "Fara? It's you?" It was then her turn to pause for a moment, scratching the side of her muzzle before responding. "Yes. Been a while, hasn't it?" She never really knew how she was going to talk to him. The years and the rift between them made that difficult. Her paws flew around the controls of the _Moonlighter_, bringing the ship to a halt right next to the _Great Fox._

Fox's reply was quick, almost a little defensive. "Why now? Why're you here... you're not trying to jump the claim on the Sauria mission, are you?" Fara blinked... she was the one who told Pepper about it in the first place, and he turned around and offered Fox a _job_? Still, she had other priorities to worry about. "You can have your fun and money that Pepper's going to give you... looks like you've put the _Great Fox_ through Hell." She interrupted Fox as he was about to make a reply. "Look. Matt's on the planet. He's either in hiding or captured; I'm not sure which. But..."

Fara herself was interrupted. A feeling of relief and joy washed over her as her brother's voice came over the line. "I'm right here, Sis. I got nabbed by the Venomians and one of these humans helped me bust out. It was only by pure luck that Fox and the gang came here... otherwise we would have been overrun by the bastards."

She pondered this a moment, her tail idly swishing and her paw scratching an itch on her ear. Matt was there. All they had to do was grab him and go off... well, wherever. Get back to the Rim, leave this hunk of junk behind for a while, grab a shuttle service with some of their savings and have a few days of vacation at her parents' estate. It had been weeks since they had eaten anything but Insta-Pasta, and almost a year since they had actually set foot on a planet.

The Fringe didn't even encompass a planet. All the major bastions of civilization in Lylat quietly ignored the fact the Fringe held a decent amount of the system's industrial capacity; mining colonies, massive space stations meant for the refining of raw materials... even huge zero-G factories were abundant. That's where they primarily worked, and honestly a change of pace would do them all good.

"Well, let's get you aboard and get you home, Matt. I think a vacation will do us all good. I'll make sure Pepper clears it, and..." Once again, Matthew interrupted her.

"I can't, Fara. Fox, Peppy, and Slippy need my help, not to mention everyone else." Matt paused for a little bit, as if he was talking to someone off-comm. "And... the planet's a mess. It's real bad... local dictators, the Venomian Empire, and an elite team of hostile aliens. We might need some help with this, Sis." Fara's ears drew back at the mention of helping them. This... wasn't going to plan.

But... she had a decision to make. "Alright. I'll round up Katt and Falco and we'll head on over. If you guys really need our help, then... for our share of the profits we'll help."

* * *

Fox tried his best not to look nervous as he waited. Three Arwings shot out from the _Moonlighter's_ docking bay, moving out of sight. However, he knew they were coming aboard. At least he knew what Falco, Katt, and Fara had been up to. The fact the had decided to become a merc team didn't surprise him... what did is that they managed to last for this long in the business.

_'Not very well...' _he thought. Their ship was on its last legs... Hell, that much was so obvious he would bet even the 'humans' could tell. And, speaking of them... "Peppy, go ahead and hold things up here. I'm going down to meet Fara." As an afterthought, he pointed a finger at Brian. "You. Come along." Fox's tone changed to one that was much more abrupt.

With a puzzled look on his face, Brian got up to follow Fox out of the conference room. As he got several yards down the hall, he asked a question. 'Why're you wanting me to tag along like your assistant? I haven't met them before, other than the fact that the lady on the line's Matt's sister."

Fox shot back in a clipped tone. "It's not about that, Brian. I want you to explain what I'm reading on my datapad." He shot the human a glare. "We have an armory for a reason. We took your weapons for safekeeping, yet both of you have concealed blasters. You and this Sazbo guy don't like each other, I can tell. But, having aliens of a species we never heard of before wandering my ship carrying weapons... you can tell where I'm going with this. Explain."

"I'm not meaning any disrespect." Brian shot back, at least trying to defuse the situation. "Fact of the matter is that I'm a merc, too. Sazbo hired my team and I for a job about a year ago. He tried to have us killed and stiffed our pay." At this, Fox's ears perked up a bit. "We were in the process of getting some revenge on him, stealing some money from under his nose, and he found us. During the chase, we somehow wound up on Sauria."

"So you're afraid he's going to try to kill you?" Fox asked as they reached the main elevator. As they entered it, he hit the button marked "Hanger" and punched it. They descended at a fairly slow pace; another thing that was going to need to be fixed, he was afraid. "Matt told me that this... Sazbo killed everyone else on his comm team. I could lock him up and have him stand trial for that."

"He's trying to kill Krystal, Fox. " Brian stated, flatly. "I don't know why, but he is. Since she's my only chance at getting back home, I can't let that happen. But... I can't let Sazbo be tipped off that we know. If I've gotta help save this damn planet along with you guys, he could very well lead us to whoever's screwing it up. Plus... she's a friend of mine. I'm not letting another friend die on that God-forsaken rock."

Fox nodded, letting the anger he felt at the aliens running around armed subside a bit. Brian did have a point. "So, throwing him in the brig's out of the question?" Brian simply nodded as the elevator doors opened. One short hallway later, they were out in the _Great Fox's_ hanger.

The hanger was actually the largest area on the ship. Brian estimated that the place was about 250 yards long, and about as wide as the entire craft. The troop transport they rode in took up a decent chunk of room, but the several spacefighter-type craft he saw didn't take up nearly as much area. The hanger could have fit about thirty of them if it needed to. His earlier assumption that the hanger could have fit a 747 was, well, right on the money. It surprised him that he didn't really notice the... scope of the place his first time through it. Then again, he had been making damn well sure Sazbo didn't take a shot at Krystal.

"This is going to be awkward." Fox stated as he pointed to three spacefighters ahead of them. One of them was clad in a blue and grey paint scheme just like the others; the other two were completely different. One was dressed up in what was once a brilliant purple and black layout, yet the paint had faded a bit and more than its share of scratches and abrasions graced its hull. The other was pink and white... fairly simple but... odd to see on a combat craft.

"What do you mean by that?" Brian asked, scratching the growing stubble on his cheek. He hated not shaving; the stubble just itched like hell after a few days. Even seeing alien spacecraft in front of him did nothing to decrease the minor annoyance.

"Fara's my ex-fiance'." Fox stated. That was pretty much all he _had_ to say about the subject. Brian knew about that... knew about that very, very well. It looked like whoever had arrived were still doing their post-flight checks; they were moving around but none of the cockpits opened. With heavily-tinted windows designed to keep out even the harshest light, he wasn't surprised he could only see their outlines.

"Believe me... if you're wanting to make amends, you might as well do it now and save yourself the trouble later." Brian sighed, glancing to his scuffed dress shoes that had more than a few splotches of dried mud on them. "Later might never come around."

Fox was about to ask the human what he meant by that, but stopped as the cockpit hatches opened. Three figures he thought he would never see here again slowly climbed out of their ships and hit the deck, silently walking towards him.

Katt Monroe was still using that pink fur dye of hers, and it contrasted with the black flight suit she wore. She was a pretty damn good Arwing pilot, and had helped Star Fox out of a bind more than once. Considering she had been trying to woo Falco all that time ago, he wasn't too surprised to see him walking up next to her.

Falco didn't look like he changed a bit in the past four years. He sauntered more than walked, and while he played the overconfident braggart role to the hilt, he was one of the best Fox had ever seen fly an Arwing, if not _the_ best... except maybe himself, of course. The avian flashed Fox a cocky grin and a nod as he walked forward, naturally acting like he flat out owned the _Great Fox._

And then there was Fara. He had no trouble meeting her ice blue gaze, but he could never tell how she really was behind an impassive mask. She gave him a polite smile and he gave her one in return. She looked great, at least... she still wore that dark purple flight suit he bought her right before she joined the team all those years ago; the one he complimented her all the time in. He caught himself staring a little bit and then yanked his senses back to the here-and-now. "H... hi guys." Yeah.. way to mess up what should have been a more imposing introduction.

Fara nodded at him. "Hi, Fox. Did you really need our help, or did you just want to see how well we're doing?" She was polite enough, but the suspicious tone behind her words was kind of... expected for an ex that left on not so good terms.

Fox almost fired off a reply,but Brian beat him to the punch. "Actually, yes. It's a real damn mess down there. I'm sure a few more hands wouldn't hurt, right?" He was once again trying to defuse the situation... something he didn't really do too much of since his time as a Marine NCO.

"And what's this alien doing here, anyway?" Falco inquired, looking over at Brian. "Is he the one that helped Matt out?"

Fox nodded at his former team members. "Yeah. From what Matt told me, they helped each other bust out of the base the Venomians had set up. We don't really know what's going on, but it's really big." He motioned over to the entrance to the hanger, already starting off towards it. "C'mon, guys. We've got everyone else set up in the conference room."

* * *

Fara looked around the conference room. She had never expected to see the inside of the _Great Fox _again, especially not with Fox actually asking for her help. She was still a little surprised at how... sheepish Fox seemed to be, especially considering the fight they had when he called off their engagement. She glanced at him, and he gave her another sheepish smile. She arched a brow at this, and then sat down.

She had never seen this many people inside the ship, either. Including her, she counted ten sitting down here. Considering the massive automation the ship had built-in, this was about its limit as far as housing was concerned. Peppy and Slippy gave her a wave and some polite smiles her way, and Matt crossed over to her seat and gave her a hug, which she enthusiastically returned. It was a relief that her brother was safe, and she could at least focus her thoughts on the mission ahead.

Brian was exchanging cautious, and sometimes dirty looks with another human sitting across from him. Fox had warned her that they weren't at all friendly towards each other,and that they were armed.

"Fox was right, Fara. Those aliens really don't like each other." Katt whispered to her, her speech not even carrying a foot in each direction with all the talking everyone else was doing. "Wonder who the vixen is, too. Do you think that Fox has...?"

Fara shook her head. "No. She's a Cerinian... Dad told us about them. Before he took over Space Dynamics from Grandpa, he was on one of the Spacers' Guild ships... they made three runs there before even the more shady factions of the Guild decided it wasn't worth the risk. Their technology base is non-existent, but I've heard a lot of them have mystical powers... mindreading, magic spells and stuff like that."

Katt was about to reply, but she noticed the blue-furred vixen looking at them, giving them both a polite smile and a nod. The meaning was obvious... she knew they were talking about her. Katt managed a smile and a nod in reply before Fox's voice stopped all the conversation.

"Okay. So, we all know the basics of what's going on here. What we need to find out is what we're going to do about it. Now, we've got one of these Spellstones, but what do we need to do about it?"

The blue vixen then spoke up, standing up to look at everyone. "The Spellstones are sacred to the Saurians, Fox. They will know where they need to go to put Sauria back together. Before our... capture, we were going to Thorntail Hollow to see where we could find the Spellstones. If we take one there, we should be able to find out where they need to be placed."

Peppy waved to the group. "There are four large pieces of the planet in orbit, actually. If you found the Spellstone in the one called the Darkice Mines, then maybe the others each have a Spellstone hidden there?" The aging hare scratched one of his ears. "If we split into two groups, one going out to find the Spellstones and the other finding out where we need to return them to... we could have this planet back together in no time."

* * *

Brian looked at the armory's main table, satisfied that there was in fact a shooting range built into the back room... more than likely for testing weapon tweaks Slippy managed to crank out, he assumed. He currently had every firearm they had collected laid out and set before him... now the tough job was figuring out what to take. The duffel bag that his late comrades had collected off the dead SpecOps troops turned out a very large amount of weapons and ammo... but he wondered if it would be enough.

The Dragunov had been laid off to the side... he was definitely taking the sniper rifle no matter the cost in weight. Being able to take out targets at range was something that was bound to come in very handy... and he didn't want Sazbo getting his hands on it. With the rifle came the ammunition... 85 7.62x54mm rifle cartridges.

Now, he was scratching his head at the remainder of weapons. Two Colt M4A1 Carbines, the AKM he had used, three AK74s, Ron's old AKSU-74, three MP5A3 subguns, and three FN P90 subguns... not to mention the motley collection of pistols strewn around the table. A calculating mind ran through advantages and disadvantages of each weapon. The M4 was lighter than the AK rifles, but its shorter barrel made it pack a lesser punch. The AKM was the most powerful, but not all that accurate and nobody else he would encounter used its ammunition. The same story with the AK74, but they actually had a decent amount of ammo for it. Actually, they were swimming in it to the tune of nearly a thousand rounds, in fact. Sazbo's comrades had come loaded for bear. Wisely, the Serbian had taken all he could off his dead friends.

The merc took a closer look at the subguns. The MP5 was a very solid choice, accurate as well as the fact the SpecOps used it; if they went head to head he'd be bound to find ammo anywhere he looked. But... its penetration wasn't so hot; 9x19mm would bounce off their armor like they were Superman. The P90's armor-piercing 5.7mm round might stand a chance of getting through, but its stopping power was very questionable. Brian never liked trusting his life to a 'poodle shooter.' In a perfect world he would have just carried his favorite, the M14, trusting it to powerful close and longer-range fire... but he wasn't that lucky.

After a moment of deciding, Brian picked up the M4A1. While the 5.56mm round it fired wasn't as effective firing through the carbine's short barrel, it was a reliable weapon and he also had 350 rounds for it. After stripping the weapon of its heavy extraneous equipment, he grabbed its sound suppressor. He didn't like the myriad of laser sights,flashlights,and short-range scopes; preferring iron sights and a lighter weapon to a large variety of techno-toys. The suppressor would be very useful, though. Being able to stay covert would come in handy.

Just then he heard the door open, seeing a flash of glimmering blue pass through it before shutting once more. Krystal was standing there... but it looked like she had received a total makeover. Instead of being dressed in that ceremonial tribal getup, she had on what looked very much like a dark blue set of biker leathers; a sleek glossy jumpsuit that encased her entire body. He blinked at her as she approached, taking a glance at the hardware he had laid out on the table, as well as on his person.

"You've been here for an hour... are you nervous about going back?" she asked, setting a paw on his shoulder. She gave another curious glance to the weapons, and noticed he had laid them out in some sort of order. She didn't want to pry, but she asked. "How... exactly do these work, anyway?"

Brian looked back to her, offering her a nod. "Firstly, I am nervous. Sazbo's coming with us, and it's going to be very hard to watch our backs if he tries anything funny. But..." he continued before Krystal could offer a rebuttal. "Firearms are pretty simple in concept. A cartridge contains three things. A brass case that is filled with explosive powder, a primer, and a bullet." As he explained, he picked up a stray 5.7mm cartridge and handed it to her.

She picked it up, nodding at him to continue. It was heavier than it looked... like a miniature dart. The vixen balanced it in her paw, twirling it between her fingers as she listened. "Now, each firearm has a firing pin that strikes the primer at the bottom of the case. It sparks and ignites the powder, which pushes the bullet through the barrel very, very fast. The barrel has grooves in it that twist the bullet and stabilize its flight."

Krystal nodded, moving to pick up one of the weapons on the table. It was light and compact... and she recognized it after only a moment. The men that attacked her family used these... firearms to kill her parents. Now, she knew who they were, what they were, where they were... and she would make sure Sauria would be put back together and Meran faced his judgment... even if she had to use a weapon that had helped tear two worlds apart. "What is... this one?"

Brian looked over at her, genuinely surprised she picked that one up. He almost considered taking it along. "That's an FN P90... uses the same round I gave you. It's a very compact gun that holds fifty rounds. It will pierce most body armor with ease, but... it doesn't have as much punch as a larger gun. Easy to use, though." He tapped the barrel of the P90, meeting her gaze at the same time. "Why do you ask?"

The Cerinian held his gaze for a long, silent moment before responding. "Teach me." She asked simply. "Teach me how to use this. If I'm going to have your back, I'm going to fight like you do." She stood back, grasping the P90 in her paws. "I'll still have my staff, but I'm going to keep up with you and... Sazbo."

Brian blinked as she said that, an eyebrow arching in surprise. The past few hours seemed to have an effect on her. Instead of chiding him, she was actually willing to learn how to shoot... how to fight. He simply nodded and grabbed a few things off the table. With that he motioned her to the back room, and into the two-lane firing range beyond. "Alright... if you want to learn how to shoot, I'll teach you. While it's not complicated, the particulars are difficult to master and take years of work."

Krystal nodded at him, looking to the range beyond. Holographic targets shimmered in the distance, very similar to the ones she had used while practicing her staff's fire blaster for the first time. She then made her way to the firing line. "Okay... what do I do?"

Brian walked over to her, handing her a loaded magazine. "I'm starting you off on semi-auto. We don't have all the ammo in the world, so you're going to have to make do with this one magazine. Now, here's how you load the weapon." He guided her through the motions of loading the weapon and its main features... as well as how to use the red-dot sight mounted on top. "Okay... now, place that dot on the center of the target, tuck that thing into your shoulder... and slowly squeeze the trigger."

The vixen did so, focusing on the target like a hawk. The P90's red sighting dot wasn't hard to point, but she found that every natural movement she made brought her off target. She shifted enough to brace herself and get the dot to quit moving. Her finger tensed on the trigger, pulling it backwards... and...

The crack pierced her ears and the weapon gave a little kick in her paws. The hologram flashed, a bright green mark appearing just to the right of the target. Brian set a hand on her shoulder. "Not bad for a first shot. Try squeezing the trigger a little more slowly. Don't be in too much of a hurry or your motion will pull it off target.

Krystal smiled and tried again, setting the sights dead on this time. She ran through a calming technique as she squeezed the trigger. The P90 went off again, but she didn't really notice the gunblast. She did, however, notice the bright green mark in the center of the target. "Yes!" she exclaimed.

Brian gave her a grin of approval. "That's how you do it. Either shot would have hit, but being able to fire accurately is key. You never know how much of your target you're going to have to shoot at. Longer shots are much more difficult, because of both the fact you've got less to aim at... and bullets naturally start going wild the farther they get out." He pointed at the target and moved his hand over a switch on the side of her weapon, pushing it with an audible click. "Ready to go to full?"

She nodded, aiming the weapon again as Brian instructed. "Now, full auto is where you pull the trigger and the gun goes off automatically. It has a fast rate of fire and you will be pulled off target if you stay on it too long." She shifted a bit, somewhat nervously as her finger placed itself on the P90's trigger. "Now only do short bursts, and lean into the gun. Want me to demonstrate?"

Krystal nodded again, passing the weapon off to Brian. He assumed the proper firing stance –feet bracing his frame as he tucked the subgun into his shoulder, allowing the red dot to fall over the target. He stroked the trigger just a short moment and it chattered to life, four or five rounds sent downrange. The green dots that showed a hit flared in a bright pattern around the center of the target. "Got it?"

The vixen grinned, taking the P90 back. "So, short bursts, keep a proper stance, and don't fire too long or you won't hit anything?" At Brian's nod she shifted into a firing stance, aiming at the target. As she did so Brian touched a button on a nearby control panel... all the hits they registered disappeared in a flash. She set her sights on the center of the target and pulled the trigger.

The P90 chattered again, and she managed to keep it from rising too fast. The green dots flared in a pattern similar to Brian's... she was getting the hang of it very quickly. "That wasn't too difficult!" With a hint of flair she peered down the sight again and fired another short burst... this one drew a jagged pattern just above her first.

Brian patted her on the shoulder as a sign of approval. "You've got a knack at that thing. Good fire control and you've got the short burst portion down pat." A little bit of pride ran through him as the Cerinian turned to him, practically beaming. "I don't have enough time to teach you about basic tactics, but I have an idea... something that might put your other talents to use."

Krystal understood immediately... and a quick check of his thoughts confirmed it. "You can help me out with tactics by just thinking about it, and I can simply read you to know what to do next!" She gave him a grin. "Are you sure you're okay with that?"

Brian nodded, glancing gown to her P90. "A little nervous, but yeah... I am. We're going to need every advantage we can get over Sazbo... being able to communicate without his knowledge is a major one." He walked over to the table and plucked a black cylinder off of it, tossing it to the Cerinian. "Sound suppressor. It fits over the muzzle of the gun to mute its report. Saves your ears when fighting in very close quarters, and is invaluable in stealth ops."

She caught it with an outstretched paw and managed to screw it onto the P90's barrel. The suppressor made the subgun a little heavier, but she could manage. Brian motioned to her and she came closer. "Hand me that for a sec and I'll get a tacsling on it." She complied, and after a moment he slid a complicated-looking set of black straps onto it. As he handed it back to her, he arched an eybrow. "We'll get to that in a bit. Now, thank God there was an extra set of body armor in that bag."

He reached down and withdrew a very heavy-looking black vest. It looked like it was made of thick fabric; very strange compared to Cerinian ceremonial and battle armor. He handed her the vest and she slipped it on... while it felt heavy in her paws it really didn't seem all that much of an encumbrance. Krystal bent forward, backward, and to each side... for its weight it was extremely flexible; far more so than traditional battle armor. "This lets you move very well... what is it?"

Brian shrugged. "I have no idea. This stuff is far beyond even standard military armor where I come from...my only guess is that it's highly classified stuff that isn't even officially supposed to exist." As he spoke he lifted up his shirt, exposing the bandages woven tightly across his chest. "If I was wearing the best stuff I knew of when Hilman shot me, there would have been a major chance I'd be dead right now. I only have a couple of cracked ribs." The human grabbed his own set of armor and slipped it on, buckling the vest around himself as tight as he could without irritating his ribs.

Krystal looked down to the weapons again... this time to the smaller ones haphazardly stacked in a pile. "The armor will protect us from any of the weapons on this table?"

Brian nodded again. "For the most part, yea. I don't know how much it'll do against this sniper rifle I have... but I'm pretty sure that it's going to be one of the most, if not _the_ most powerful gun out here. But, remember that you're just as vulnerable if you get hit anywhere that armor doesn't cover. Snipers will usually target the head."

Idly, she picked up one of the smaller guns, balancing it in her paws as she asked another question. "Now, snipers are people who are more... precise with guns?" That's the gist she got from what she had seen... and the weapon on his back was very large... perfect for shooting very accurately.

Brian looked to her. "Exactly. Snipers hide and lay in wait, providing accurate fire from a long distance away. They are trained to kill someone at a distance without being seen, as well as get out of the area without leaving evidence they were even there."

Krystal shuddered... the thought of being killed without even knowing how or why somehow unnerved her. She tightened her grip on the little gun, looking up at him. "How will we... get past one of these snipers if we encounter them?"

Brian scratched his chin... his stubble was getting thick. Judging by it, he hadn't shaved for at least two days, if not three. It struck him that three days before he had been in a Swiss hotel, about to become a millionaire. An eternity later... he was in an alien ship, teaching a walking, talking vixen--who he had befriended, no less-- how to shoot... and he was reluctantly teamed up with the man whose money he had been plotting to steal. How ironic. "You've got an advantage in the fact you can read thoughts. You can get a read on them. I can't tell you how valuable that will be." He flashed her a disarming grin. "Just keep moving. Snipers hesitate at taking a shot that might miss, because that will give away their position. They take a shot at you and miss, I find them, and then they're going to be taking the same medicine." He patted the stock of the Dragunov for good measure.

The vixen smiled back, holding the small gun up for him to see. "This looks a bit like the one you lost before we got to the Hollow, right?" Krystal hated to change the subject, but she was curious... and being curious kept her mind off of things. At least Brian was confident in their skills to survive... and to succeed.

"Yeah. That's a handgun. Usually a secondary weapon, or used as a primary if you need to conceal one easily. That one's an FN Five-Seven. Fires the same round as your P90, so you can use it in either gun if you have to. " He picked up a large belt with several pouches hanging from it; Krystal gave him a puzzled look. "It's a tactical belt. It'll hold extra magazines, your pistol, and other miscellaneous junk." He handed it to her and she struggled with it, finally getting it on with some guidance from Brian.

Krystal slid her new pistol into its holster, and grabbed several extra magazines for it. "Now... are we ready to go?" She smiled at him as he helped her with the P90. Its sling worked like Brian's; the weapon dangled at her side, within easy reach. "All we have to do is talk to the Queen Earthwalker and find out what we have to do with this Spellstone."

Brian nodded as he stood up, making sure he had everything they would need. Weapons and ammunition were covered, as well as a few survival kits and ration packs... Slippy made sure they were well-outfitted. All except for the clothes. Due to his stature, nobody had any clothing that fit him decently. He would be stuck with his somewhat torn-up business suit... but at least he had it cleaned. Krystal, on the other hand... yeah. "You're lucky. You managed to find some clothes that would fit you."

The vixen nodded as she checked her possessions one final time... ensuring everything was in place. She stuffed a few more magazines into her backpack before she glanced over to her human friend. "Fara had an old flight suit she let me borrow. She wasn't using it, so... yeah." The Cerinian giggled as she added her way to the door... letting it slide open. "Let's get this going, shall we?"

* * *

They assembled in the _Great Fox's _ hanger. Fox, Fara, and Katt were standing around a card table, all dressed in their flight suits and mulling over what looked to be battle plans. It looked for all the world like a scene out of an old World War 2 movie... pilots standing in front of their warbirds, going over their plans to take the fight to the enemy. Replace the old P51s and Spitfires with space fighters, and give the pilots a bit more fur here and there and you would have it. They were all wearing laser pistols... probably wouldn't have enough room in the cockpits to stow rifles.

In contrast, he and Krystal were decked out for a ground mission. They had enough firearms and ammunition to take over a banana republic, and while his ribs protested the tightness around his chest, the body armor 'donated' by the SpecOps team they took out was enough protection to feel somewhat safe. Falco and Peppy were standing by a strange-looking, large missile set out on a cart next to the spacefighters. The hare glanced over to them and motioned them over, which they obliged.

"That's a big damn rocket. Going to take out some asteroids with that thing?" Brian asked as he glanced it over. The missile looked like a slightly scaled-down ICBM. With the asteroid field surrounding the planet he figured it would be Hell to try to get through it.

"Not exactly. This is your insertion vehicle." Peppy stated as the human and vixen started staring at him with wide eyes. "It's an escape pod modified into a torpedo... standard covert insertion vehicle for Rangers. We had a few lying around, and it's a lot less risky than trying to get that _Eraser_ back through Venom defenses."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Krystal asked as she peered at the torpedo. "Not much room for life support or even space for us three to fit." She pointed at Peppy. "Also, I don't know how to fly very well... what if something goes wrong?"

"I'll be flying us down." Falco looked up from his inspection of the craft, a small wrench dangling from his fingers. "It's as cramped as you can get with four of us on board, but with me behind the stick, you can practically spit on the Venom idiots as we fly by. They won't even know we were there."

"I see." Brian scratched his chin. He had tried to master it as best he could, but this was something totally new. Something that brought his contained fear of flying to the forefront of his mind. He was about to say something when he heard footsteps behind them.

Sazbo stood there, looking at the insertion craft. "So, we are riding a missile down to the planet? It could be worse." He glanced to the three others. "Except for the company, that is." He tugged at the sling to his AK74 while rolling his eyes. "Let us get this over with; I have a man to kill, a score to settle, and a cause to get back to."

"Arrogant asshole." Brian muttered, shaking his head at the Serbian. Catching a glare from Sazbo, he simply sighed. "Just because we're stuck having you as a goddamn guide doesn't mean I have to like it."

Sazbo chuckled. "In that case you are wrong. If you do not follow my orders, I might have to lead you astray." He scoffed at the younger man, chuckling afterwards.

"I swear to God... if you fuck us over I'm going to blow you in half..." Brian started forward but was caught by a paw around his arm, pulling him back rather forcefully. He looked back to catch Krystal's stern expression, as well as a mental warning.

_'You can't provoke him like this, Brian! If he even thinks we will turn on him, he will kill us! I'm not good enough to give us enough warning if he snaps, so you need to be careful!"_ Outwardly, the Cerinian simply shook her head and pulled him back.

"Smart man." Sazbo continued. "Now, load us up and get us down to the surface." He pointed toward Falco, who seemed to be biting his tongue. That didn't stop him from rolling his eyes at the human before he opened the main hatch to the insertion craft.

* * *

"Once more... are you sure this is safe?" Brian asked as he glanced around the tiny escape pod. There was just enough room for all of them and their gear; four heavily-padded seats with massive restraint systems clamped down over all of them. Their weapons, except for the pistols they wore, were enclosed in strongboxes attached to each seat. This was just in case they had to eject from the missile. That alone made him nervous... one mis-step and they all might be sucking vacuum.

Falco looked back at all of them. He was the only one with a control panel in front of him, and he was charged with the task of piloting this craft on their mission. Stealth was a major factor in their choice of transport... they could not let the Venom forces know that they were coming.

So... they were crammed in one of the _Great Fox's_ torpedo tubes, in a craft specially modified for covert insertions. Brian was pretty damn nervous, and a glance at Sazbo's normally stoic glare gave him the knowledge he wasn't the only one. If that butcher was on edge, then everyone had a right to be.

"Absolutely. I've done this a couple times on missions." Falco shrugged off his comment. "Better than getting my tailfeathers shot off trying to lug that transport tub down there... no way in Hell we were going to be able to cram all of us in my Arwing."

"We will be on the ground soon enough." Krystal sat back as far as the restraints would let her. She seemed almost... relaxed. Brian had to admit that she had some serious stones to not really be too affected by this.

"Let us hope you are right, creature." Sazbo spat. "I wish to forget this whole damned mess." With a huff he glanced down to his holstered Springfield. "Who let you carry a firearm, anyway? I would be surprised if you do not shoot yourself with it."

Krystal's jovial expression soured. "I'll remember that when I think about shooting a Sharpclaw that is about to club your head off. Maybe it will knock some sense into you." The Cerinian scoffed at him, deciding to glance towards Falco. "When will we be launching?"

Cutting off any sort of retort from the Serbian, Falco responded. "Thirty seconds. I'd hold on if I were you. The launch is pretty bad, and then we've got about ten minutes before we reach atmosphere. That's where the fun begins."

Brian took a deep breath and grit his teeth as Falco started the countdown. While he didn't do too bad on the _Eraser_ transport craft, he hated flying. He barely tolerated commercial jets and being stuck in a manned rocket just... he was about to finish the thought but was stopped by Krystal's paw wrapping around his hand.

She nodded at him, just once, as Falco begun the countdown. He nodded back at her as he finished... then the sensation of having a sumo wrestler slam him in the chest tore away all the feeling he could register.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes: Well, I've cranked out another one. I'm trying to concentrate on getting more of this done, now that I have a bit more... direction to go. This is a pretty long installment, but I'm starting to get my pacing down pat and the plot moves along quite nicely. This one starts a bit more emotional and moral theme than previous chapters... blame it on the music I've been listening to. I'm pretty proud at how this one turned out. **

**Now, to answer a couple of reviews.**

**Northern-Megas: Interesting technical point. The addition of a sound suppressor causes a velocity drop on a bullet in the first place, making it less effective than if it was fired without one. And, on the M4, its shorter barrel causes an even more drastic velocity drop when compared to the standard M16... this is why US troops currently stationed in Iraq are switching to the M16... more clumsy in close quarters, but better punch. Brian took the suppressor along just in case he would have to run a stealth op... it's not like it's permanently attached. :P**

**Delta: Well... let's just say at least one of your predictions are coming true in this chapter. Haven't thought far enough ahead for an Earth/Cornerian contact scenario... I will keep that as an idea, though. **

* * *

Chapter 21: Off on the Wrong Foot.

Brian blinked his eyes open and instantly felt the squeamish feeling in his stomach. He guessed it was zero-g and that they were drifting in space. Apparently everyone but Falco had blacked out; the avian was busy at the controls as if it was another day on the job for him. _'Probably is.'_ he mused.

Both Sazbo and Krystal were still out, their arms and legs drifting in the lack of gravitational pull. This would be an experience to write home about... even though he hated flying he was pretty much technically an astronaut. His head hurt, but being one of the privileged few to cast their lot among the stars brought a heady feeling.

"If any of you are awake, we're free and clear. I skimmed and dropped a Nova Bomb on a nearby asteroid to make it look like we were simply blowing it out of the way. Venom sensor systems aren't even skimming close to us." Falco chuckled as his fingers danced across the controls. "Fell for the oldest trick in the book."

"That's comforting, I guess." Brian attempted to shrug but was held in place by the restraints. "How long until we hit land?"

"Fifteen minutes. Atmospheric entry in ten." Falco responded. "We've got a lot of velocity to bleed off and since we need to be in a tight area I can't have us shaking off-course. Sucks that they can't strap a G-diffuser to one of these just yet."

"G... diffuser?" Brian questioned, not really able to do much else.

"Yeah. Basically an artificial gravity generator. Used to be exclusive to large capital ships, but smaller versions are being produced. The smallest craft that can fit them are the Arwing fighters we use. Allows us to use artificial gravity fields for extreme maneuvers in zero-g, as well as lets us do similar things on a planet with no loss of performance." the avian laughed and shrugged. "They make Arwings super-expensive to the point where almost nobody outside of the government, very well-off citizens or private corporate security forces can afford them."

The former Marine chuckled at that. "Least they're not just status symbols." Another thought crossed his mind. "Now, when are Sazbo and Krystal going to wake up?"

Falco scanned the instruments in front of him. "I don't think they're going to be up before we hit atmosphere. I'm surprised _you_ are conscious, actually. That was fourteen Gs of lateral acceleration. You black out, your body gets subjected to that kind of stress, and you 'reset' for a while. Hell, I'm trained to do this and I almost flashed out."

That was strange. How did he... recover that quickly? He mulled over that for a bit, before Falco cut in again... seemingly thinking the same thing.

"You are a grunt, and if you're used to a lot of ground-pounding you're going to be a bit more resilient... it's probably why you woke up earlier. Strange that you went out first, though. It was you, then Mister Happy over there. Your vixen almost managed to ride the whole thing out. Pretty tough, I'd say. There's something about the tough, cute ones... right?"

"Uhm... right." Brian shook his head, although Falco couldn't see it. He decided to remain silent after that... it wasn't anything personal but having his mind wander was the _last_ thing he wanted right then.

* * *

Krystal awoke to a cacophony. The interior of the craft was shaking badly, the vibrations making her sight blurry and filling her ears to the point where all she could hear was a constant rattle. She could see Sazbo stirring awake across from them, and by his movements he could tell Brian already did. Had she blacked out as well? She couldn't remember.

Talking was useless with all the noise. She barely heard Brian shout something at her, and she couldn't understand any of it. His thoughts, however, were uncluttered... though the din made it hard to concentrate. "_We broke into the atmosphere a minute ago."_ rang through her head.

"_Not long now... I hope they haven't moved the Queen Earthwalker since all this happened." _she thought back. "_The Venom troops that got me were _very_ close to finding her."_

Brian had other concerns. "_I'm worried that we're going to have to deal with Sazbo sooner rather than later. Once he gets back on the planet all he has to do is shoot you and do whatever he needs to do to get away."_

"_We will deal with him if he tries to." _The vixen felt... cold thinking that. The mental image of her pointing her new pistol at the Serbian and pulling the trigger filled her mind... and she didn't like it one bit. She shouldn't be thinking about... murdering someone in cold blood. But... it was survival, or was it? She knew it wasn't right, but... what if he did the same to her?

Brian seemed to catch her drift. _'You're thinking about bushwhacking him.'_ There was a pause... he was starting to figure out the nuances of mental communication. It was a lot like 'thinking out loud.' While normally a one-way thing, Krystal could pick up on his thoughts and respond in return. "_We have a saying where I come from, Krystal. 'The first casualty of war is innocence.' When you're around an enemy who is willing to do anything to kill you... you start to become willing to do anything to kill them. If you want to turn around and pop Sazbo as soon as he's turned his back, I'm not going to stop you. But... if you go down that road there won't be any looking back."_

_"I... I understand."_ Krystal sighed... she shouldn't even be thinking about it. If Sazbo tried to harm her, she would be able to anticipate his movements. She couldn't read anything except surface thoughts, especially on a human, but if he tried attacking her she would have that critical split-second warning.

She caught another emotion... fear... from Falco. Something was happening. She was about to think something to Brian, but she didn't even have the time to do that. A piercing wail shot out even over the rumbling and rattling, piercing in her ears and causing all vestiges of her concentration to shatter.

Krystal barely heard Falco's voice yell over everything. "They've locked onto us! Going to eject!" She saw him stabbing a red button on the control panel before the sensation of being kicked in the chest ended the chaos.

The torpedo they had ridden in on shattered into several flaming chunks as her laden chair spun around end over end... the green, fertile earth and the dark blue sky above locked into competition for her view. The landscape looked impossibly far below her, and after a moment she struggled for breath, trying to keep composed.

The vixen's stomach lurched as the seat kept spinning, yet a quick glimpse of the other chairs falling toward the surface of Sauria brought hope that her friends... and antagonist... were alive. They were going to be separated, however. She was far enough away that she couldn't feel anyone's thought patterns. They were all drifting apart.

After a moment the seat righted itself with the pulse of miniature thrusters, although she was still falling very quickly. The landscape started getting more familiar... she knew the terrain from the photos they all studied on the _Great Fox._ They were coming at least close to Thorntail Hollow, and that would have to do.

Her descent lasted several minutes, the ejection seat's thrusters kicking in as she neared the ground. The harsh, whining roar drowned out all noise for a moment before she heard the cracking of branches... the seat had hit trees and plummeted through, falling to the dirt with a _whump_. She had the wind knocked out of her as she landed, and remained dazed for a moment.

The forest around her was silent... compared to the chaos she just went through, it was eerie. Krystal unbuckled the restraints holding her to the ejection seat and then went to work. Her paw went to her thigh... miraculously her pistol was still in its holster. She didn't hear or sense anyone around, so everything was safe for the moment.

The cargo compartment took up the entire back of the seat. She didn't have too much other than her backpack, P90, and staff, all of which was snatched up quickly. Getting away from the crash site was critical. Someone had shot them down and would be looking for any survivors. Holding the squat subgun in one paw she dashed through the trees, trying to get her bearings.

Several minutes later she happened upon a small path cut through the trees. It would do. She managed to get a good glimpse of the general area, and knew that the Hollow was off to her right, or at least should be. She started up the path, hoping beyond hope that she would run into one of her teammates before long. She caught herself hoping that Brian wasn't killed. The thought startled her... she didn't want the human to be killed, but why was she worried about it, suddenly?

Krystal was lost in thought as well as in direction... she wasn't sure exactly where the Hollow was from her location... and while she had a general idea it wasn't exact. Because of that she didn't sense the group of Sharpclaw coming down the path until she saw them. A burst of surprised hissing came from them as they brandished their clubs and swords, stomping their way towards her.

Instinctively she grabbed the closest weapon she had, and came up with the P90. Even though Brian had taught her as well as he could in the short time they had, it felt a little strange to fight with the firearm. Still, she tucked it into her shoulder and let the red dot fall on the lead Sharpclaw.

The FN snarled into the once-quiet forest, its 5.7mm rounds ripping into her adversary and sending it kicking and sprawling into the dirt. She immediately switched to another charging lizard and fired another short burst, this one aimed at its face. It dropped like a sack of bricks, and the remaining three Sharpclaw stopped. One of them reached for something... and Krystal realized it was a bomb.

She jabbed the subgun's trigger in a panic, the weapon once again growling out hot, high-speed death. It pulled against her shoulder but managed to stay mostly on target, the magazine emptying out into the three hapless lizards.

They all fell to the ground in bloody heaps as Krystal felt the P90 click, empty. Immediately she cursed; she didn't have that kind of ammunition to waste. With a sigh she reloaded, setting the firearm on semi-automatic. However, maybe the noise would be heard by Brian or Falco... she shivered at the thought of coming across Sazbo alone.

* * *

Sazbo himself was also lost. He had no idea what the hell had happened, but their craft had blown apart and here he was, alone, and left to his own devices. Two goals burned in his mind now. Karina must be avenged. He was going to find the American special forces team and make them pay. They had no idea who they were dealing with, and the leader of the Revolution would have them all begging for a quick death.

The other goal, however, was more immediate. In order to leave this damned rock, he needed to kill that blue fox Lancing had been traveling with. Her death and some evidence of it would allow him to go home, grieve... allow his anger to fuel the Revolution. Brian would be stuck here and more than likely killed... or he might not. Either way he wouldn't have the American meddle in affairs he knew nothing about. The five million meant nothing to him now... revenge and returning to his home took the place of the missing money.

He stopped as he heard something out of place.. the sandy rattle of gunfire. It wasn't too far off. He moved forward, only to hear another burst greet his ears. It sounded like a submachine gun... and the blue fox was carrying one, while Brian was carrying an M4 carbine. The third burst was much longer and stopped abruptly... she had done a mag dump. Poor fire control. He snickered as he homed in on the source of the gunfire. All he would have to do was track her and lay in wait. Brian and the bird that flew them here would be none the wiser... it would be like they disappeared.

Krystal debated the benefits of staying put versus keeping on going. If Brian or Falco heard her gunfire, they would be looking for her. Yet, the gunfire could draw other Sharpclaw, or worse... Sazbo. The risks were great on either side. With a sigh she decided to wait... slipping into the trees and trying to hide in case anyone came along.

She didn't have to wait long. She sensed thought patterns before she saw who it belonged to. It was hard to distinguish them from the distance... she estimated they were about a hundred yards away. After a few seconds she realized they were human... and not Brian. She gasped and slid into deeper cover, knowing Sazbo had been drawn to the gunfire first.

Her paws clenched the P90. He had a firearm, but so did she. With agonizing slowness, she reached into her pack, fumbling around a bit. She would need what she was searching for... very quickly.

A voice called out... Sazbo's. "It is no use to hide from me. I see your amateur handiwork right here! A true professional won't need a full magazine to kill five opponents. Allow me to demonstrate!" Krystal felt a wave of triumph come over the madman... he had spotted her. With a yelp she ducked behind a tree as he fired, his AK74's rattle filling the air. The tree shook with the impact of multiple hits... she also felt a sharp burning sensation on her forearm.

Shaking, Krystal extracted the object she was searching for... the P90's sound suppressor. She quickly locked it onto the SMG's muzzle and stood up, darting behind another group of trees as quickly and quietly as she could. The vixen was on her own, now. She still couldn't sense Brian or Falco, and the human who was intent on killing her was mere yards away.

"You made me ruin my average, bitch!" the Serbian spat, swinging the AK74 around and firing in a random direction. He stomped off the path and into the woods. She was scared, and fear would cause her to hesitate. It would not be long now... she would be joining the ranks of the dead soon enough. The gunrunner saw the tree he had hit, the bark chewed and shredded in spots by the deadly 5.45mm bullets.

Krystal held her breath and stuck the P90 back into her shoulder. She saw movement, and... he entered her line of sight. He was trying hard to look for her, and she fervently hoped beyond hope that she would be able to escape. She froze right then as the P90's red dot landed on his chest. She had a clear shot. She could...

No. She couldn't kill him in cold blood! But... he was going to do the same! Her finger tensed on the weapon's trigger, a battle between her personal code of honor and practicality waging as surely as she was locked into battle with her opponent. She wasn't supposed to kill an enemy from hiding. They were supposed to meet one another in fair combat... not an ambush! Yet... she didn't want to fail. Sauria counted on her. Her friend counted on her. She made up her mind.

The P90 spoke once more.

* * *

"Where the Hell did we land?" Brian asked, glancing towards the datapad that Falco was carrying. "How far off target _are_ we?" He was a little pissed. They got shot down and scattered. He managed to keep a visual track of Falco's ejection seat on the way down, and after collecting his weaponry and equipment made a beeline to his location.

"We're about two klicks from Thorntail Hollow, so we're not far. The ejection seat transmitters were disabled... didn't think we'd need them and we didn't want Venom troops all over our asses anyway. We're going to have to find Krystal and Sazbo before we can get on with it."

"Preferably before Sazbo finds Krystal." Brian patted the stock of his M4. "I don't have a good feeling about this. If he gets half a chance, he's going to kill her."

Falco was about to respond when he heard a strange rattling noise from far off. He pointed up, and Brian nodded. Another rattling noise came and stopped... then another, much longer one. After it subsided, the avian voiced his question. "What was that?"

"Gunfire." Brian responded. "Least a mile off, if not more. Too high-pitched to be a rifle... Krystal's P90, has to be." There were many times where his practiced ear came in handy... this was another one of those times. "We gotta get going. Quickly." He pointed off to their right and rushed through the trees, Falco taking off after him.

On flat ground, Brian could still run a mile in six minutes. This was not flat ground, and the obstacles they might face would sap that precious time. He knew Sazbo would come looking for the vixen, and while he knew she was armed he would be a very dangerous opponent. Even with his M4 and the body armor he had on he was dreading the inevitable encounter.

After five minutes he was huffing and puffing, and by the sound of things Falco was lagging way behind. The terrain was awful; dodging tree roots and fallen logs made the trip like running an Olympic hurdle course. He was about to stop until he heard another burst of gunfire... much closer yet still in the distance. The sound was deeper and a little more 'metallic-sounding' than Krystal's P90... the unmistakable signature of AK fire. His heart went cold as he pushed himself forward just in time to hear another burst... he was going to be too late. If he killed her, Sazbo would die by his hands... and he would die slowly and painfully.

Brian was pushing the edge of exhaustion by the time he reached a clear path in the woods and rushed down it... tactically dangerous but it would be quicker than going through the undergrowth. He snatched the M4 up in his hands as he went... then stopped as he came upon the grisly scene that awaited him around a bend.

He almost stepped into the remains of several Sharpclaw... blown almost in half. Judging by the glint of brass he saw littering the road, Krystal had come across them. But... where was Sazbo? "Come out... you rat bastard!" he gasped, lifting the M4 to his shoulder. He was willing to take a hit to get the asshole to give away his position.

Instead, a familiar voice greeted him. Krystal stumbled out onto the path with her head hung low. Along with her P90 and Five-Seven, she had an AK74 slung across her shoulder. Even before she spoke he knew what had happened. "He... won't be coming out." she monotoned, keeping a shuffling pace toward him. "I'm... sorry. I had to."

Brian's adrenaline and exhaustion-filled mind had a little trouble putting it together. "You... took care of him?" She looked up then, those green eyes filled with... pain. That almost broke him right there and then, bad memories filling his head in a flood he only barely stopped. "Come here." he managed to choke out.

The Cerinian stumbled forward and nearly fell, only to find herself caught up in her friend's arms. "If I showed myself, he would have..."

"Don't worry. You did good." Brian sighed, holding her close. Why the Hell did she remind him so much of Eri... '_Don't even think that ever again! Keep it buried!'_ he admonished himself.

"What's... wrong?" she asked, breathing a sigh of relief. She tried to shake the mental image from her mind, but couldn't. The bright red blood and the accusing look Sazbo gave her as he fell would haunt her forever.

"Please... don't ask me. I don't want to remember." This was a rare sight... she could sense he _had_ been burying something deeply... and she could also sense that he would _not_ talk about it. Krystal simply stayed still, trying to calm down from the recent shock she went through.

"I understand, Brian." Things were starting to unravel in front of them, but bonds would strengthen. Her friends would become closer, and that alone might allow them to stand up to whatever Scales or the Venomians would throw at them. She had done something wicked mere minutes ago. But, right here, right now, she felt... safe. They stood together in the middle of the path, not saying anything nor thinking anything. She wanted to enjoy the moment before it was interrupted.

The interruption wasn't all that far off. Falco came charging onto the path, his blaster in hand. He stopped, wide-eyed, as he spotted them. "Er... sorry if I'm ruining the moment. You two go about your... business." He gave a sly chuckle at that. "Won't tell anyone I saw anything."

"Ain't like that, dude." Brian responded, winding away from Krystal. "She freaked out a bit after she iced Sazbo." He turned around and started forward. "Might as well get a move on. I'm not too keen on sticking around and waiting for any more of these Sharpclaw to show up." Placing a hand on Krystal's shoulder, he guided her forward.

"Whatever you say, man." Falco shrugged and looked at his datapad. "We're just under a klick away, so we should be there in a few minutes. I'd like to know who burned our tailfeathers up there, though."

"It might be Scales." Krystal chimed in. "I think he managed to get his slimy hands on some of the Venom weaponry... I wouldn't be surprised that the Sharpclaw shot us down and are trying to track us down."

Falco shook his head. "No. Whatever hit us was spaceborne. I'm going to give Fox a call and see if he might have seen anything. Plus, he needs to know we're on the ground. As they walked down the path, he pulled out his communicator earpiece and donned it.

* * *

The three Arwings shot through the dark, vast void at impossible speed. Arranged in a typical 'Vee' formation, the trio of craft were almost poetic in their grace, as if they were dangerous feral cats on the hunt. This was about the only time Fox felt truly free... when he was in his Arwing, he was the master of his destiny... not Pepper, not their blasted budget... nothing but him and his Arwing.

What was different this time was that he wasn't alone. Ever since Falco left the team, he had been flying combat missions solo... maybe backing up a squadron of Rangers, but he never went into formation with them. Now, Fara was on his right, and Katt was on his left.

It had been years since he had flown with Fara. She had grown more experienced, he could tell... she had a knack of following the Academy textbooks to a T, but her execution had become more... graceful. Instead of just sticking with him in formation, it was as if she knew what he was going to do before he did; matching his movements before he even pushed his control stick.

A beeping noise brought him out of his thoughts. His HUD flashed, a confirmation that he had a conversation line open. He looked at the icon and blinked, telling the computer to open the connection. A small video feed appeared just inside the range of his vision. Falco's features filled it.

"Hey, Fox. Just needed to tell you I got us down.. kind of." Falco sounded embarrassed. _This_ he had to hear.

"Kind of?" Fox questioned. "The great Falco Lombardi had a crash landing or something?" He teased... hey, it was the first time in years he had been able to give his old friend a ribbing.

"Eh... more like... being shot down?" His face flustered.. yup. He wouldn't live this down for a long time.

"Damn. Some flunky on the ground finally managed to bring you down? All four of you are safe, right?" He asked with a more serious tone... he hoped every one had made it.

"Well... everyone got down alright, but Sazbo went after Krystal as soon as our ejection seats hit the ground." He paused for a moment as Fox's face sunk.

"Are you telling me she's... dead?" Fox sighed... the ground mission was off to a _very_ bad start. Two of them down... and Krystal was the key to finding out what was going on down there.

"No. Krystal shot Sazbo with one of those human weapons. He's dead, she's shaken but will be okay. You know what they say about your first." He sighed and looked off-camera.

"Yeah. I still have nightmares sometimes, man. I'm sure you do too, even if you won't tell anyone." He shrugged and looked away from the video feed; it was always safe practice to keep an eye on the sensor feeds and one out in the 'real universe,' as he called it. You didn't live to be an eight-year veteran combat pilot by keeping your attention on a video call while in a potentially dangerous area.

"Listen. I need you to keep on the lookout. Whatever shot us down was spaceborne. The Venomians still have teeth, and I don't think they're taking second chances. We'll reach this Thorntail Hollow point in a few minutes, but I'm hanging it up just in case they're trying to trace us. Falco, out." The feed blinked off, leaving Fox to digest the new information.

"You're being quiet." Fara's voice carried in over the comm channel. "Any news from the ground team?" She kept it professional yet friendly, which was surprising. But, they were watching each others' backs for better or worse.

"Long story short, yes. They were shot down and ejected, they all made it down safe. Krystal killed that other human in self-defense... so it doesn't look like he's going to face trial on Corneria."

"Good riddance to that bastard." Fara spat. "He killed my brother's team, and almost killed him, too." He could hear the anger in her voice. "Too many good folks have been killed down there, Fox. Let's hope we don't lose them."

Fox nodded... about the only couple of points he could see him and Fara agreeing on. "Worrying about it isn't going to help us. Falco's down there, and from what we know Brian is an experienced soldier... just the thing we need down there. We're up here because we're experienced combat pilots."

Fara paused for a moment. "I guess you're right, Fox. I'd hate to admit it, but you are."

Fox was about to respond, but Katt's voice carried over the channel. "Look alive! We've got company. Looks like eight _Menacer_ fighters!" Katt's Arwing was upgraded with a rather high-end sensor package, and she was running look-out duty. "That and a damn _Eraser_, looks like it's modified for orbital bombardment."

"Looks like that might be what tagged Falco and the others... they're down and safe, though." Fox didn't have the time to give Katt a more thorough briefing than that. They banked their craft towards the enemy formation. "Alright... standard Vee, we'll hit them in a spearhead. Fara, you and I will take the escorts. Katt, you get the _Eraser._" His brain switched to a more tactical line of thought as they raced towards the enemy.

"Roger, Fox." Katt responded as she kept formation, arming the twin FerraTek pulse laser cannons that were standard armament on any Arwing. Her sensor package took up any Nova Bomb launchers that would have been included on the craft, but the _Eraser_ was a soft enough target that they wouldn't be needed.

The three ships bore down upon their unsuspecting targets. The lead pilot in the _Menacer_ formation didn't know they were being watched until it was too late; the three blips only just appearing on his sensor array before they opened fire. As two of his wingmen simply disintegrated, his blood ran cold. Arwings. Fox McCloud, the vulpine mercenary who murdered Andross, had him in his sights. "We're being attacked! Get them!" was his only cry as he banked the much less formidable fighter towards his adversary.

Katt glanced at her sensor array as well... the _Menacers _were taking the bait. They were leaving the _Eraser_ unguarded... amateurs. She rolled her eyes and focused on the transport craft.. it was trying to turn tail and run. That wasn't going to happen. The feline pressed her thumb on her control stick's firing stud... the only indication she had just released 40 gigawatts of energy towards the craft was the flash of green laser bolts and a subtle vibration of her Arwing.

With no air in space to transfer the vibrations of sound, space combat was eerily... silent. Pilots had to look sharp and use their sensor arrays; only the most skilled and alert pilots actually lived through their first few dogfights. Everyone involved in this particular melee was a solid professional, but the technological end of the stick was held by the three Arwing pilots.

Forty gigawatts of energy slammed into the hull of the _Eraser_. The power involved was, in human terms, equal to the output of half the nuclear plants in the United States... all put to the effort of reducing a large transport craft to vapor.

The energy bolts she fired did just that. With unerring accuracy they slammed through the _Eraser's_ armored hull and tore into the small fusion reactor that powered the craft. The transport simply ceased to exist in a brilliant flash of light. "Katt here... the _Eraser's_ been erased." She laughed over the comm channel before joining Fox and Fara in their own fray.

* * *

The three made their way up a large hill, their last obstacle to Thorntail Hollow. It was for all intents and purposes the same path Brian and Krystal followed the last time, and the lush, green landscape all around them looked familiar. Falco was in front, scouting out the terrain in front of them. Brian held up the rear, relaxed but alert, making sure they weren't being followed. Krystal kept between them, making sure her eyes and mind were scanning around them.

They had avoided three Sharpclaw patrols this way... while they were very well-armed, they didn't want to waste ammunition or power cells before their mission even started. Falco held out his hand... a signal for them to stop. "I'm going to check out what's in the valley. You two stay put." With that he edged forward, cresting the hill and falling out of sight.

Brian moved closer to the vixen. "Almost there. How're you holding up?" He kept one hand on the stock of his M4 at all times... all the times he spent on patrol in Iraq had ingrained some cautious habits.

Krystal looked back at her friend. She had tucked her P90 into her backpack, after a quick consultation with him. Sazbo's AK74 packed more firepower and had a greater range... although she still tried not to think about what had transpired in getting her paws on it. "I'm still a bit stiff... I haven't fully recovered from the stun blast, I think." She frowned at that, looking ahead. "I guess I should say I'm lucky to be alive, right? After all this?"

Brian shrugged. "I guess you can say that. Though, I think you're tougher and more resilient than you let yourself believe to be." Her ears perked in response to the compliment. "You'd make a damn fine soldier."

The Cerinian sighed. "Soldiers... do stuff like that?" That caused her to look down to her feet. They were encased in the flight suit's boots instead of her sandals... a minor discomfort that she would get used to relatively quickly. "Kill others without a shred of honor... anything they can do to survive?"

Brian nodded. "We all do what we have to. War is hell. You do a lot of... questionable things when you're on the battlefield, but it all has to do with what you're fighting _for_, not _how_ you're fighting." He glanced up to the deep blue alien sky, tilting his helmet down to shade himself from the sun. The twinge of pain he got from the bullet furrow on his scalp reminded him he hadn't come through this unscathed, either. "Much the same as what we were doing in Iraq."

Krystal looked up at him. "Iraq?" she inquired. "The pictures in your... wallet?" At least it was something to concentrate on. She was surprised with how little she really knew about Brian, other than the fact he was a soldier turned mercenary. What surprised her was that... she really _wanted_ to know. "Why were you fighting there?"

Brian shook his head. "It's a very, very long story. Parts of it encompass over sixty years of my world's history... and other parts encompass events that played out nearly two thousand years ago." He reached over and patted her on the shoulder. "If we have time later on, I'll try to explain. But, the essence of it was... helping people." Yeah... even though he didn't really believe it, there was some nobility in saying that... some form of redemption.

The vixen nodded. "I'll hold you to that promise." A smile, the first one he had seen from her all day, crossed her muzzle. "I want to know about your home... where you come from." In return, she placed her paw on his shoulder as well. "I guess I'm curious, and don't want to pry." She didn't feel right looking into his mind for the answers, even if he let her. It was a matter of trust.

Brian nodded. "Not sure why you'd be that curious, but it's a deal." He pointed up the hill. "Screw it. I wonder what Falco's screwing around with, so why don't we get up there and see what's going on." With that he started up the hill, pulling Krystal along with him.

They crested the hill to find Falco standing there, scratching his head at the strange vehicle still parked there. The human and vixen knew exactly what it was, but it was apparent that the avian had no idea. "It looks kind of like a hovercar, but it has wheels. Can't be all that fast, but it looks like it's built to travel long distances. Whatever it is, it ain't Saurian." He heard the sets of footsteps coming behind him. "Anyone care to guess what this is?"

Brian chuckled. "It's a car. I drove it here." With a shrug he walked past the motionless Acura. There wasn't much sense in driving it into the valley below; they were almost at their destination and the car was pretty much useless if they had to go off-road.

Krystal giggled and motioned for Falco to follow. "It's okay... I don't sense anyone other than the Thorntail below. We're safe, so let's go meet the Queen. She made her way after the human, not even looking back to see if Falco was going to join them.

With a shake of his head, he did. The entire operation was strange, and the presence of the two aliens didn't do him too much comfort. But, they all had their wits, and with his blaster, the odd alien projectile weapons, and Krystal's abilities, they had a chance at figuring out what was going on planetside.

They made their way into the valley, amid the stares from several Thorntail... the local name for the Stegosaurus-like creatures that milled about the valley they found themselves in. A small creek bisected the entire area, although it looked like it was only a few feet deep. It seemed to originate from a waterfall behind a high rock wall, and ended at another rock wall near what looked to be a large building built into it... everything was a strange sight to Brian, who was trying to figure out exactly how these dinosaurs could build a building... let alone something that complex.

Falco and the former Marine followed Krystal, who seemed to know where she was going. She kept her paws well away from her weapons, and so did they. They stopped near one of the Thorntails, who was grazing on a small patch of grass. The Cerinian knelt down in front of him and smiled, saying a couple of quick sentences in a language both Brian and Falco couldn't understand.

They chatted with each other for a moment, and the Thorntail turned and cocked his head towards the building that was integrated with the rock wall. Krystal nodded, and then turned to them. "The Queen is in the palace, right over there. Let's see what we need to do with this Spellstone we've got."

* * *

The Queen Earthwalker stood still in her temporary chambers. This was not the Walled City, which had been separated from the planet when Scales stole the Spellstones from their resting place at the Force Point Temple. Yet, the Thorntail had always been peaceful allies of the Earthwalkers since time immemorial. She glanced up as she heard sets of feet approach down the ramp into the chambers.

Three strange creatures approached, and she hunched backwards as she saw they were armed with what looked like the strange weapons that the army that was called Venom had. Yet, before she decided on a course of action, she took a good look at the three. One had blue fur; another had blue feathers. Yet, the third one was completely devoid of fur, feathers, or scales... only skin and the cloth it had wrapped itself with protected it.

The blue-furred one approached her, bowing low and formally... something only the Lightfoot did to denote respect towards the nobility of Sauria. The Queen was mildly surprised when the creature started to speak, in fluent Saurian. The voice suggested the creature was female. "Please forgive the intrusion, Queen Earthwalker. I am Krystal Haleth, one of a Council Family on Cerinia. My friends and I are here to help you reverse the damage done here."

The Earthwalker blinked at this revelation. The Cloudrunners, a tribe that she would normally not even speak to, had given word that there was someone named Krystal who was willing to help them. She sighed and nodded at her. "There is a lot to be done, Krystal. Both the Sharpclaw and these Venom rats have torn our world apart. There is a way to bring Sauria together, but the journey will be arduous and filled with danger. Your lives will be at no small risk; many of my people have died trying to fight the Sharpclaw."

Krystal smiled and knelt before her. "We understand this. Thanks to one of my friends, we have already obtained one of the Spellstones. We need to know where it must be placed to start bringing Sauria back together."

The Queen's jaw dropped, or at least the Earthwalker equivalent of it. "The Cloudrunners told me you managed to return a Krazoa to the Palace... and now you have a Spellstone? That is wonderful news! You must retrieve the remaining three Spellstones as well as the three remaining Krazoa spirits... the spirits must be returned to the Palace, yet the Spellstones must be returned to the Force Point Temple."

The Cerinian nodded. "Thanks for letting us know. Where is the Temple, so we can return the Spellstone?"

The Queen looked up at the vixen and her three comrades. "It is south of here, at Cape Claw. You must be careful, for we have seen a great metal beast in the water. Once you return it there, come back.. I will tell you where to locate the Krazoa." She paused for a moment, and as Krystal stood, she asked a question. "Please... tell me who your friends are."

She nodded and pointed to the feathered one. "Falco Lombardi, of the Star Fox team." The mention of Star Fox piqued the Earthwalker's attention... the Cornerian army had sent someone! Krystal pointed to the furless one. "The 'human' is Brian Lancing, of the United States Marines." The 'human' then looked at Krystal with a strange expression. She turned to him and smiled. "Don't worry, Queen. We will return shortly."

* * *

"I can see being diplomatic and all, but... why label me a Marine? I've been out of the service for years." Night had fallen, and with encouragement from the Queen Earthwalker, they were convinced to stay the night before setting out in the morning. The three had set camp in the same grove where Krystal's staff had been... Brian had insisted that it was one of the best defensible spots in the entire Hollow. Right now Falco was asleep. Brian had taken the first fire watch, and for some reason Krystal had joined him instead of getting some sleep.

"Well, it is true... you were a member of your world's military. That, and I doubt the Queen Earthwalker would like to know that reluctant mercenaries are putting this planet back together." The vixen sat with her back next to a nearby tree, although she was only a couple of feet from him. "Now... your promise?"

Brian blinked at her. He was comfortable. If he had one and it wasn't a fire watch, he would have been sitting back with a beer. As it was his M4 was propped against the tree he was leaning on, and he looked for all the world like a lazy beachgoer... minus the combat gear and automatic weapons. "Well, alright. What do you want to know?"

"Why did you want to become a soldier in the first place? Is it a common profession on your world?" She had thrown up her own mental blocks on this one. Even though her abilities could give her a combat advantage, Brian was quickly becoming her best friend. She made sure she wasn't going to pry into his mind for the answers.

"Patriotism, mainly." the merc started. "And, it's not as common as you would think it is on Earth... wars are now mainly smaller-scale conflicts. The last major world-altering war back home occurred over sixty years ago."

She nodded, listening with rapt attention. "What happened? Why did you personally sign up to fight?"

Brian scratched the still-growing stubble on his face. He wished he had a razor, but good luck finding one out here. Her questions had some merit... she was interested in learning about his culture... about him. That was surprising, but a promise was a promise. "Keep in mind all this occurred when I was on the brink of adulthood. I just finished high school... the end of a person's mandatory education process when they are a kid. I decided to pursue more education. My ambition was to become a businessman... a merchant of sorts, if you will."

"That seems like a very strange occupation change. A merchant to a soldier?" Krystal scratched her muzzle, mimicking Brian... at least subconsciously. "Why the change? You're intelligent. You say I would make a fine soldier, but you would have made a fine merchant."

"Heh... thanks." He cracked a little bit of a smile at the compliment. "I actually completed the education a little later, but something happened. There was an attack on a very large city in my nation... many people were killed. A radical religious group took responsibility for the attack... one that held sway over a very large segment of people, and even had a few nations in their direct grasp. Our nation's response was to invade. We were angry, and wished to seek vengeance. So... I went ahead and joined up."

She scooted a little closer to him. "What happened afterward?" He seemed to hold his nation in high regard, but she couldn't help but remember how disillusioned he was back in her craft... after they escaped the Krazoa Palace. He was changing, opening up a bit. She could tell even without using the Art.

"I went through training, and then was shipped out immediately to where the fighting took place. Lots of boredom, lots of time to kill. Not much to do, but when something happened you were usually in danger. I kept a cool head through the dangerous parts. Honed my skills, and got promoted. Then... we invaded another country. Many people think that this was a mistake. Either way, we ousted the government there... run by a bunch of murderers... and I was stationed there to help keep peace. Iraq was much the same, but much more violent."

"Iraq... where you took the pictures in your wallet?" She asked and was a little surprised when he brought them out. As he spoke, he flipped through them. He talked about war stories and camaraderies, of good times as well as bad. He flipped to a photo near the back which showed him sitting at a card table, his head tilted back as if he was laughing. Two other men were in the photo, but not quite visible.

"God, I remember that day. A week before all this crap happened. My entire squad had the day off, and there wasn't too much to do other than sit around and play computer games. Rico Morales, our machine-gunner, had just told this hilarious joke... Ken Meyers snapped that pic just before I fell out of my chair." He laughed... one of the few times he had really done that in the past few days. "Busted my ass, but it was worth it."

Krystal giggled at the thought of the hardened soldier-turned-mercenary falling out of a chair laughing. "We have to keep onto these memories. They last a lifetime, even when the bonds we had didn't." She kept looking at the picture, seeing her friend in a much better mood. She noticed a ring around a finger on his left hand... but she had never seen him wear one. Another question to file for later.

Brian slid the picture out of his wallet. "I want you to have this. When this is all over, I'm going to be back home. The memories might last forever, but when this is all over we're not going to see each other again. Consider it a souvenir." Slowly, he placed the photo in her paw.

She gingerly took the photo, closing her eyes. A part of her didn't want it to end. She lost everything. Her parents, her friends... her home. She had spent months alone. She had made another friend, and she was going to lose him, too. It was inevitable, but she didn't want it to happen. "I... I know. We didn't get along well at first, but you have been a good friend to me. I am going to... miss you." She opened her eyes. She wasn't going to betray her own emotions, but she had to say it.

"I understand. You've been a great friend through this wild ride. I've lost most of mine on this trip, and believe me it's not going to be easy." He shrugged and looked up at the stars. "Losing someone hurts. Hurts for a long time, and it never gets easy."

Krystal sighed, glancing up to the stars as well. Slowly, she placed her paw upon his shoulder. "Why do you have to leave? You could stay here. The Lylat System is big... I'm sure you could find a place to live, a new home." She immediately felt selfish, but she had to say it.

"I can't, Krystal. My home is my home. The country I almost gave my life for, my parents live there... and the thought of getting away from it all to retire is just too great." He shook his head and glanced to her. "I'm shaking off the demons that have plagued me. Yes, I'm still going to be in danger when I get home. I will have old enemies tracking me, people with scores to settle."

"Enemies and scores that will never find you here!" The vixen gripped his shoulder a little tighter. "You told me that you're little better than a criminal 'back home.' Here? You will be a hero. Please... think about it." She closed her eyes again. _'I have lost so much... Melos be damned if I'm going to lose another friend when I can help it.'_

"I'm sorry... but it is my goal, Krys." He sighed again. The words sounded a little hollow even to him, but the loss of everything familiar to him only brought back an intense need to be home. He wasn't lying to himself about missing his newfound friend, but... 'home' had been the sole purpose driving him to do all of this. "It's the way it's gotta be."

"Then damn _'the way it's gotta be'_ to the Void!" With a huff, she slid the photo she held into a pocket on her flight suit. She then slid away from the tree and away from him... she wasn't going to let him see the tears that were now ready to fall. Krystal stumbled back to their makeshift camp, reaching her sleeping bag before they started.

Brian shook his head as he watched her go. Part of him wanted to go after her, but another told him to leave it be. He didn't want to leave her sad, but at the same time... he wasn't meant to be here. "Jesus. The right thing is never easy." He sighed and looked over the peaceful valley, keeping still as he let his mind wander.

After a moment, he opened his wallet again. In a zippered compartment, he kept that ring that Krystal had seen in the photo, along with another. His eyes closed as he gripped it, not even bothering to hold back the bad memories. "Fate's a bitch, Erica... it took you from me. It takes everything from me." His free hand wound around the tree, grasping the M4 and setting it in his lap. "But... when fate catches up to me, I'm going to be ready for it."

The troubled merc sat in silence throughout his watch, and through Krystal's, as well. The night was about to get short as Falco emerged from the trees, glancing at him. He tucked the ring back into his wallet and looked up.

"Krystal's still asleep. You took over her watch?" He was still shaking off the cobwebs, Brian could tell. "Getting her beauty sleep, huh?"

"Something like that, I guess. I think I'll turn in for the night. If you need me, give me a shout." The former Marine stood up, offering a parting wave to the avian.

"Naa... by the time you get your tail out of bed I will have already roasted anything that might be a threat. I'm as good with a blaster as I am an Arwing, remember?" Falco chuckled and leaned up against the tree.

"Right. That's why we got blown out of the sky." Offering that parting shot, he made his way back to camp, reaching his sleeping bag. Setting his rifle beside his pack, he checked on the vixen.

She was sleeping somewhat peacefully, but he noticed that her cheeks were wet. He sighed again. "Fuckin' fate." he cursed as he slid into the sleeping bag. Moments later he was asleep.


	23. On Hiatus

** On hiatus.**

**Well, once again I'm sorry not to have come out with an actual chapter. I know several of you have put this story on their faves and story alerts. It's a heady feeling, literally seeing people from around the world reading something you had forged from an idea, spare time, and a keyboard. I have enjoyed every review, every PM, and every discussion with other authors about where to take this story. I've had it up on this site for a year and a half, but I have worked on it for two, and it's been a fun ride that I have learned quite a bit from.**

**I am considering putting the entire story through a rewrite. One of the major problems I have encountered is overpopulation. I threw a slew of OC's designed to add intrigue to the plot, but couldn't find enough 'screen time' for most any of them. The plot holes I see in this story are numerous, and trying to bring everything to a close that I feel proud of is becoming very, very hard.**

**Unlike several stories I have seen on this site, I'm not letting _Gambit_ disappear. Many of you like the ideas I have brought up in this story, and I've put too much work into it to let it die. I'm not deleting this, and I haven't fully given myself to the idea of starting over from scratch. I have begun work on the rewrite, which I would be releasing as another story and working on from there. I already have a couple of chapters written and undergoing edits; all this within three days as opposed to the weeks I usually spend going through a chapter on _Gambit._**

**The story will have much the same plot and characters, although most of the human OC's will be cut. I won't mention too many details, but Brian and Krystal will make a comeback, it will be on Sauria, and it will much more closely follow the SFA game storyline instead of the one I blundered into. I like what I have written thus far, and it's much more detailed and flows a lot easier than my earlier chapters. I'm not going to release anything from the rewrite just yet, and whether or not this gets off the ground is, well, entirely up to you guys.**

**Here's what I want. Get in touch with me. Not just my regular reviewers, either. If you've read and liked the story, PM me or leave me a review telling me what you want to see in the rewrite, or that I'm a dumb bastard for considering a rewrite in the first place. This means everyone; this means _YOU. _ Any and all feedback on this will be greatly appreciated.**

**Once again, thanks for reading. I can't tell y'all how proud I am of making something people've enjoyed and come back for more like I was hosting a weekly radio play. Let me know how I'm doing. If there's enough interest in the rewrite, I will post up the prologue to it.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Well, I hate to tease you guys again, but it really isn't so much of a tease right now. As of this writing, the rewrite of this story is up, called Zero Point. I would like to thank you all for sticking with me this far, and for making this story as enjoyable to write as I hope it has been enjoyable for you to read. Hopefully you will find my second attempt at this as enjoyable if not moreso. This will be my last update here, unless you find that the rewrite completely sucks and threaten to torch my house unless I continue on with this one... hehe.**

**See you on the other story, everyone. Thanks again!**


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